LeBeau Legacy: The End
by kataract52
Summary: AU. Based on Claremont's epic masterpiece, 'The End', from the LeBeau family's POV. Rated for adult content.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men. Original characters are mine.

A/N: Alternate Universe story based loosely on Chris Claremont's masterpiece 'The End', and told mostly from the point of view of the LeBeau family. This story also follows my other fan fics, although you don't have to be familiar with either to enjoy this one. If you like, please review. Thanks!

…

LeBeau Legacy: The End

Prologue

It was storming when Stryfe kicked them from their sleeping bags and drove them into the mountains. Soon, the blinding rain became a blizzard, trapping him and his team in the Andes. Why he'd isolated them from civilization was a mystery. In recent months, he'd become increasingly unhinged. Most of his followers abandoned him with his sanity, returning to the outlaw ranks from which he'd recruited them. Only his most loyal remained with him now. His obsessions became theirs; his goals and passions, their all-consuming habits. These sheep that he both loathed and needed did not question his mania with Nate Summers, nor did they puzzle at his craving for Honor LeBeau. If they could accept his denouncement of himself and still think him worthy, they could accept his madness as logic forever. The only one who didn't grovel helplessly at his feet was the only one he respected.

Sarah joined their ranks out of necessity. When Stryfe found her, she was more animal than human. He gave her food, shelter, and the thing all creatures desire above all else: purpose. In recent weeks, her belly grew in the unmistakable swell of pregnancy. Marrow swore herself pure from intimate touch, which meant her child was either a miracle or travesty. Stryfe responded in his violent nature, attempting time and again to terminate it before it could claim its first breath. When the creature clung stubbornly to life, he drug her into the mountains. Now that he had driventhem as far as possible from sight or touch of light, there was no doubt this child was about to be born. Would the newborn return Stryfe's sensibilities? Would it reach out and destroy him when he inevitably tried to kill it? Or would its struggle be in vain, its lifeless body left here as if it had never been?

He tried to keep her in the open: perhaps the open air could freeze it. But Marrow sought out what she knew best – corners, caves, and crevasses. There, in darkness, she brought forth her child.

Stryfe considered bringing the mountain down on them both, but curiosity got the better of him. He crawled inside, created a flame, and saw the bloody infant there at her breast. She shot him a deadly look, but look was all she could do. She was too weak to even push him away. He approached and watched the child squirm with undeserving life. It opened its sleepy eyes – red and black eyes! He wanted to kill Sarah and leave her child for the wolves, but somehow sensed the fruitlessness of that plan. This child had the protection of heaven or hell! No matter what he did, he was forever more this infant's pawn!

Sarah watched him storm away and heard him swiftly slaughter his own disciples. She shuttered and held her baby tight. No, this was not her child, but some twisted creation forced upon her! How easy it would be to smash its soft head…

The child looked at her through the dark. Years of living under ground had given her night-vision, but even if she couldn't see its eyes, she would have felt his gaze. She was being watched by a predator. And then, like a nightmare, his thoughts crept into her mind.

"What are doing, mother?... Put down that stone. I am your loving child."

...:::…

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the X-Men. Original characters are mine.

**LeBeau Legacy: The End**

**Chapter One: The Heirs to His Heart**

"It is good to have an end to journey toward: but is the journey that matters, in the end."  
~Ernest Hemingway

_Remy had his fortune told when he was thirteen-years-old. Rumor boasted this woman as "the best". Jean-Luc's favored son didn't put faith in things he couldn't understand, but Belle fueled his curiosity. She said the fortune teller knew things that Belle had never told anyone – not even Remy._

_He couldn't stand knowing that. He was charming when he wanted something, and even though Belle wouldn't tell him what the woman said, he was confident he could find out from the source. His sights narrowed on the gypsy with her playing cards wrapped in purple silk. _

"_Whatchya seekin' t' know, chille?" the woman asked, shuffling her old cards with even older hands._

"_I wanna know… who m' parents are."_

"_Liar," she smiled and her eyes faded into shadows. "Dat girl gonna be y' wife one day. By den, y' gonna know everyt'ing about her… Even know what she not say."_

"_Dat's amazin'!" he exclaimed. "How'd y' do dat?"_

"_Magic." _

_She tapped the table, ordering him to pay before she spoke further. After a slight hesitation, he obeyed, and she ordered him to select three cards._

"_Y' past is dark and empty. Nothin' good dere. Y' own all y' need and will get all y' want. Wealth. Love. Passion. __**Power.**_

"_I see an army. Weapons and soldiers and mansions and towers and land y' never __**seen**__ will be under y' spell. And de femmes. Y' love women and dey love you. And children… __**dozens**__ of 'm! _

"_You will be patriarch t' a new generation. But dat's de good bits. Wanna know de rest?"_

_He chose three more cards._

"_Dere's a trail of blood and tears and broken hearts. Y' try t' bury 'm in de past. Best t' keep your skeletons buried or dey will bury __**you**__."_

Remy awoke startled.

Beside him, Anna slumbered undisturbed. He sighed and dropped his head into his hands, but the shadows were smothering him. He moved deftly through the darkness and stepped outside to the deck overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Nowhere left to run. Valle Soleada was as far from New Orleans as he could move his family, but regrets were harder to escape.

When those broken promises and hearts finally caught him, they wouldn't bury him alone. He had a family now. Sweet Anna-Marie had given him two sweet tempered children: a boy named Olivier, and a girl they called Becca. There had been a still-born boy after the twins, whom they'd named Henri and buried in New York. At the time, they'd been living happily in a house Remy built especially for his family.

But last year, their family changed. Remy's daughter by Belle, Honor, had left for college in the city. Belle re-married and left, taking her two younger children. They were greatly missed. Remy couldn't look at Honor's tower or Belle's wing without yearning for them, and that wasn't fair to Anna. So they moved to the last place that had truly been theirs: Valle Soleada, California.

With beachfront property, two superhero pensions, and a growing family, many people thought they were living the dream. They were still young, too. Not as young as they'd _once_ been, but Remy was in fantastic shape for a man pushing forty. He lacked the spare tire his peers had slowly acquired, and his hair was still thick and shaggy. Lately, he'd let his perpetual gruff grow into a beard – it matched the Southern California vibe – but he wasn't keen on it. One perk was that it helped conceal his black and blood colored eyes, but it was also an Anna-magnet. She loved the look.

Anyone who watched his voluptuous young wife run her fingers through his salted cinnamon hair would think they were madly in love. Everyone who met his beautiful, well-behaved children and saw his enormous house by the sea went green with envy. But there was a cavern in their home. Somewhere between New York and California, a vast gulf came between how things _appeared_ and how things _were_.

It was now painfully clear to Remy how much had changed. Somehow, he'd had _more_ privacy with a full house. When he vanished, everyone assumed he was with everyone else. He could work, which provided for the family, so nobody questioned him. Now he had nowhere to hide and Anna had no one else to spend her time with.

He held back.

She got lonely.

He wasn't destroyed by her unfaithfulness, but he was afraid of losing his family. They took a vacation, which worked, and this guy was out of the picture. Without a word, Anna had chosen her husband. Did she have regrets? Had she been in love? Every time he wanted to ask, the words caught in his throat. She would respond with loveless eyes that were no longer blinded to his shortcomings. He wasn't angry and had no right to be hurt, for his betrayals had been far, far worse.

Unable to face his failures, he disappeared into the night.

…:::…

_Charles Xavier Hospital  
San Javier, California_

Visiting hours ended long ago. Certain tricks could circumnavigate the security of other hospitals, but this one was extraordinary. Xavier would be proud; he always valued vigilance. Remy already knew these nurses couldn't be charmed and the roof couldn't be accessed. The linchpin was the military precision of the security guards, which he'd memorized and slipped through.

Inside the shadowy embrace of empty corridors, a chill ran down his spine. This place was a prison. Every time he unlocked a door and heard it lock behind him, he feared he'd been trapped.

Room 465.

The sounds of content, methodical life support machines greeted him, and the pungent scene of rubbing alcohol quickly followed. Soft lamp light illuminated the bed. The patient's large, masculine body had once served as his weapon. Now, it was too large to support. Like a snail dragging a cumbersome shell, John Greycrow waited for a chance to abandon the old tool. His face bore deep lines of suffering. His hair had turned white and thin, as if to lighten the load of flesh. But his eyes were still sharp, and snapped to Remy at the first sound.

"What time is it?" asked Scalphunter.

"Late… How you feelin'?"

"Like death warmed over." A pause. "No news?"

"There's a lead in Russia. I'll be gone a while. Afterwards, m' family's got a thing back home… So if ya ain't gonna make it, lemme know now. I'll save myself the trouble."

Scalphunter gave a rare smile. "Can't stand it, can you? Sickness. Weakness. Neither can I. Death would be so easy. But I'm not waking up in anymore clones, you hear? You gave your word and you'll keep it or I'll haunt your ass."

…..:::::…..

_LeBeau Residence  
Valle Soleada_

It might as well have been Christmas. The children had gotten no sleep the night before, having bounced between rooms to convey their secrets in excited whispers. Anna heard them from her pillow. Rustling blankets, tentative footsteps, softly opened doors, and finally their sweet voices beckoning to each other through the warm California night. Remy would've had a fit, but he'd already left without a word. He couldn't understand how difficult it was for Becca and Ollie to separate after sharing a bedroom for the first seven years of their lives. Before a room, they'd shared her womb. They had been conceived together, and that's how they would live.

Anna adored their sleeping mass of freckles and chestnut locks, softly snoring like purring kittens. Last night they'd been a proper litter. Emma and Scott's children, Meg and Alexander, had also stayed the night, and the energy was positively electric until dawn.

Responsible for four children under age eight, Anna was in her element. She didn't envy Remy and his moonlighting. She didn't begrudge Emma and her free night. Anna had found her role in the universe: at the eye of a child-care hurricane. Under the guise of selfless compassion, she gathered the children under her roof and silently listened to their bonds deepen. She somehow felt desperately lonely and painfully fulfilled at the same time.

As the sky lightened from velvet to pink, Remy swept in and cleared away the shadows. He desperately needed sleep, and dropped into bed like a boulder.

"Y' take de kids today," he grumbled into his pillow.

"Nuh-huh. Ah had 'm last night, you have 'm today. That was the deal."

"Maybe dey'll sleep in…"

"Wake up, Momma! Wake up!" Two little voices shrilled. "Happy birthday!"

Rogue was just a lump beneath the covers, as content as a turtle sleeping in its shell. She brushed the white bangs from her green eyes and reached out a tattooed arm for Ollie and Becca.

She was more grateful than she should've been to have _normal_ children. Her twin children were beautiful, healthy, and happy. They had bright hazel eyes, thick chestnut hair that curled past the ears and a healthy dose of freckles across the nose and cheeks. If they grew into mutants, they could still pass for baselines. They would never know the discrimination their parents had been forced to overcome. If they were especially lucky, they might _not_ grow up to be mutants. Anna fondly imagined her children passing through puberty without ever causing an explosion or fire; without ever turning green or transforming into some animal-human hybrid. Oh, Remy would be disappointed. The more eccentric, the better, in his opinion, but Anna's mutation caused her to suffer a solid decade without human touch. It was a fate worse than death, and she'd give anything to protect her babies from it.

"So how old are you?" Becca asked, settling on her mother's left side.

Ollie climbed onto her right. Subconsciously, they each moved closer and closer to her, competing for her attention.

"Ah'm this old." She flashed ten fingers three times.

"That's a _lot_ of candles!" said Ollie with wide eyes and a naughty grin.

"How many? Let's count," she encouraged.

Numbers were Becca's specialty. She quickly counted: "Ten, twenty, _thirty_!"

"So if Ah'm thirty and you're six, how many years are between us?"

Again, Becca was the first to figure it out. Ollie wasn't stupid, he'd just come to rely on his sister always figuring out the puzzle first. Likewise, she'd come to depend on him for whatever they wanted. A trip to the toy store, an extra scoop of ice-cream – Olls could charm the scales off a snake. Becca hadn't yet discovered that he sometimes used this weapon against her: getting the toy _he_ wanted or talking her into giving him _her_ extra scoop of ice-cream, and in fact, Rogue herself had only just realized it. The kid had a knack for getting his way.

"How old is Papa?" asked Becca.

"Thirty-seven."

"That means there's seven years between you!"

"And how many years between you and your father?" Before Becca could answer, she quickly added, "Ah want _Ollie_ to try this one."

His little freckled face panicked and then relaxed again. "Today isn't about _Papa_, it's about _you_. And you're not _that_ old. I only asked 'cause Papa only got you two candles for your cake-"

"Olivier!" Becca snapped. "It's _supposed_ to be a surprise!"

He coolly dealt his next card. "Momma already knew about that party, didn't you? She's only _pretending_ to be surprised…"

Remy, who'd been pretend-asleep, finally spoke up.

"Think it's time t' get dressed. _Before_ you two spill de guest list, eh?"

They trampled out like a pair of gazelles.

Remy settled into his usual camp on their enormous bed, and Anna noticed an uncharacteristic heaviness in his limbs. She knew him well enough to know his weariness wasn't from physical stress. She stroked his hair, but he tensed at the contact and she instinctively pulled away.

"Did ya get _any_ sleep?" she asked. "I wanna know what greedy man's keepin' my husband."

"Ain't a pinch. I couldn't get work if I tried… Wasted de best years of my life wit' a bunch of do-gooders, and now there ain't a team that'll take me."

"So it's a woman. Is she pretty?"

"_Pft_. Ladies can't keep their hands off me. A wife. Kids. Work. My responsibilities drive 'm _wild_."

The doorbell rang and Remy groaned.

"That'll be Em," Anna said, rolling out of bed. "She's early… Grab a shower and Ah'll get the coffee."

…..::::…..

_New York City_

In a plush Manhattan penthouse overlooking Central Park, a young woman stood nude in front of her window and watched the sunrise. Tess knew she should've been grateful for every sunrise and _especially_ thankful for the view.

Born to improvised parents in a war-torn village in the Middle East, her life choices were limited and predetermined. It took a tragedy to propel her into the States, where she'd made the life she wanted for herself. At fifteen, she was a self-made millionaire. At sixteen, she was emancipated and joined the ranks of the elite Hellfire Club. Now nineteen, she was Mr. Shaw's personal assistant, and as such, entitled to endless privileges like this sun rise. But the sun felt cold to her, and it was about to get colder.

She heard a soft click and smelled a cigarette burning. Her blood ignited.

Tess turned to her bed, where Honor laid naked beneath 1200 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Well, almost naked… There was one blue sock which they'd neglected to discard in their haste to disrobe. It still held on to her left foot, making her look childish and a little disoriented. But that was Honor.

When her father moved out West, she'd pierced her nose. After her mother re-married, she'd gotten a tattoo of a spade wrapped in belladonna flowers inked behind her right shoulder. She was better than all this teen angst behavior, really, and it was a little pathetic that she would act out this way. Otherwise, she would've been very pretty. Her hair was strawberry blonde, instead of Tess's black; and her body was endlessly generous in every way, unlike Tess, who struggled to fill the corset of her predecessor. They both had pale skin marred with scars, but Honor's were mostly on her body, while Tess's worst scars ran proudly down her cheeks. But Tess's _favorite_ thing about Honor was her cupid-bow mouth, which was irresistibly kissable… When it wasn't smoking a disgusting cigarette!

"How many times have I asked you not to do that in here?"

Honor exhaled a breath of smoke and turned her red-on-black eyes with distain.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Afraid you won't get your _deposit_ back?"

Tess sighed.

Of course she knew. Honor had possessed pre-cognitive skills for almost a decade. She _knew_ Tess was relocating to Europe with Shaw. Honor would feel abandoned once more and resent her enormously. The hate, Tess _could_ and _had_ lived with, and she hoped the distance would give them both some clarity.

"You could've _told_ me," Honor said, flicking her ashes into a glass of water. "I still would've let you _fuck_ me."

Tess wished Honor could understand. She was her dearest friend, her lover, and soul mate. They only needed to exist to be united and understand each other. But sometimes the distance between them was insurmountable. Like now. Honor could never understand that Tess had no choice but to go where Shaw led. Her only means of support were her wits. If her boss didn't like her, then she wouldn't have a job. If she didn't have this job, she was dead. She didn't have a world of opportunities and a life to chase them like Honor did. Sadly, for being psychic, her understanding of the world was rather narrow.

"I'm sorry, honey," said Tess, "I still love you."

"Fuck love."

…..::::….

_Valle Soleada_

"Earmuff alert," Emma said, "Here comes Gambit."

Hovering over twin mugs of steaming coffee, Anna and Emma created a sweet picture of the oldest, truest friends… No one would ever suspect that two years ago, Emma had tried to erase his mind. But if Remy kept account of petty spites like attempted assassination, he'd have no friends at all.

"_Ain?_ Y'all don' _pouponer_ on m'account, 'ear?"

Emma shuttered. "I don't know how you _tolerate_ this garbage!"

"_Gar ici, chere_, you in _m'_ house. And speakin' of, why you here so early?"

"I'm taking your wife baby shopping. Scott and I are expecting again. Twins this time. Girls, I think."

"You know already?" he asked. "You ain't even showin'."

"Not _me_. God, no! We're using a surrogate this time."

He looked to Anna, who remained silent.

"Thought I knew all there was to makin' babies, but what de hell's a surrogate?"

"You don't _know_?" Emma asked. Her brow arched superiorly before she smoothed her face and replied coolly. "A surrogate is a woman who agrees to carry a child conceived from my egg and Scott's sperm. For all legal and biological purposes, the child is mine. I just won't be required to sacrifice my body this time."

"So y' don't gotta feel it growin' in your belly and get attached to it-?"

"Remy!"

"-or risk your life to bring 'm into the world?"

"This is a _fifty thousand dollar_ investment," Emma countered, "I'm as invested as _any_ mother."

"Ah'm sorry," Anna apologized for her husband.

"What did I tell you, dear? Southern men have very _narrow_ minds."

"S'cuse me," he turned for the door, "Dis narrow-minded swamp-rat gotta find a Hallmark card dat congratulates you for cheatin' nature."

Once outside, he watched the children playing in the surf. They caught him and, like an army of ants, the LeBeau and Frost-Summers children brought him crashing into the frothy ocean. They were breathless from laughter and bright-eyed from victory.

Remy smiled, remembering his own days of teamwork and glory. He repetitiously tossed off duel teams of Ollie and Meg, Becca and Alexander, taking care not to seriously damage their tiny fists and bare knees. Their little laughs were infectious. For him, the exercise was an echo of older memories, but for the children, it was new and enduring.

Anna watched the pleasant scene through the window. Behind her, Emma gave a little sigh: from fatigue or contentment, she didn't know.

"A surrogate, huh?" asked Anna. "Is that how the government fines mutants for reproducing? Ain't like you to play by their rules."

"What's _your_ excuse for not bearing as many children as your body can manage?" countered Emma.

"Ah just know when ta quit. No sense in bringin' anyone else into our messed up lives."

Emma's defensive anger vanished and she gently squeezed Anna's hand. As a telepath, Emma was privy to anyone's most private thoughts. She could easily force her way into Anna's mind, but decided against it. Anna was her friend.

"You're doing the best you can with an imperfect man." Emma paused. "How are things?... His mood swings?"

"He's fine," she said a little too quickly. Then she invited Emma into her thoughts and continued: _'Ah mean… He's been nothin' but sweet on me. But he keeps takin' off at night and won't say where he's goin'. Ah think he's lookin' for Gus.'_

'_Was that your lover's name?'_

Anna looked around and then stopped herself. _'Ain't this the part where ya tell me Ah'm bein' paranoid?'_

'_Guilt, honey. It'll do that to you.'_

'_So why's __**he**__ a time bomb ta keep an eye on, but Ah'm just peachy?'_

'_Because you didn't try to kill your first born,' _Emma coolly reminded her.

Of course, Emma didn't mention that she'd tried to mind wipe Gambit after he'd gone mad and attacked Honor. From her view, Gambit was still the greater threat.

"No." Anna sighed and shook her hair loose. "Ah said Ah forgave him when Ah _didn't_ because Ah _thought_ it was the right thing to do. Ah _thought_ if we pretended everything was alright, Ah might believe it. Ah don't even know _how_ ta be honest with the man anymore… And Ah _hate_ lyin' to him. Every time we're alone, Ah wanna tell him how sorry Ah am for… for somethin' he doesn't even know about."

Emma watched the empty space between them before softly replying. "I could erase those memories."

Anna smiled, grateful at last to have a sympathetic ear. The thought had crossed her mind, but Gus had been her friend before she let things go too far. He was a good man, and despite her poor behavior, she wasn't willing to forget him. He deserved better.

Purged of her secrets, the fiery spark returned to her eyes. "Ya know what Ah need? Some shopping therapy! Let's get outta here."

…..::::…..

_Hezbaki Plateau, The Savage Land_

The child was growing at an alarming rate. In just three weeks, it had grown to the size of a two-year-old, complete with a full and articulate vocabulary. Unlike Sarah, its skin lacked any color and its hair was blue-black. Maybe it wasn't really _her_ child. She'd said so when she first came to him, but he didn't believe her. He should've killed her then. He still considered it, but the child was too powerful. On the night of its birth, it possessed Stryfe to murder all witnesses. How could a newborn do that? Why had it spared him?

It seemed to favor Sarah, and she favored it, too. She named him "Adam", supposedly a name the child chose for itself at birth. Styfe called it "the child", although it wasn't. It was something else: something _evil_.

When the child said they were going to the Savage Land to fulfill a prophecy, Stryfe was reluctant, but it insisted.

"The barbarians believe I am destined to lead them to greatness," it said, "And I shall. We must arrive together, all of us, on the Hezbaki plateau. Air travel will be necessary, of course, but I shall need other tools as well."

The little brat got everything it wanted, as usual. The grand entrance, the warm welcome – everything went as planned. But Stryfe hadn't known that someone else had already paved the way. When the faux-family arrived in the Savage Land, the tribes engulfed them. Stryfe noticed that the children were all of the same age and strongly resembled their new messiah. The bastard wasn't "making his way", it was picking up scraps from others and weaving them to his purposes! But what could Stryfe do? He was just the packing dog.

The Hezbakis lifted it on their shoulders and welcomed it like a god.

...:::...

_Valle Soleada_

It was dusk when Anna and Emma finally returned. Knowing they were about to walk into a party, the pair stumbled over the threshold with their legs intertwined and lips locked. The response was a rewarding _"Sur-eewwww!"_

Anna didn't have many friends in Valle Soleada (her one true friend was the man she could never speak of), but they had all come for her. Since her stepdaughter couldn't attend, she called and teased her father about cooking food no one wanted to eat. Honor always made him smile. She wasn't wrong, either; those who had eaten Remy's cuisine before knew to pull their hamburger patties off the grill in a hurry, including Scott.

"This man'll face an army of sentinels but won't try Cajun cookin'," Remy teased.

"Now, sug…" said Anna, wrapping an arm around her husband's waist. "Some people _want_ ta catch salmonella. Ah hear it's a great way ta lose weight."

"You guys have a great view," Scott replied. "I apologize for not visiting earlier. With Kitty starting a new school, it just wasn't feasible."

"And makin' a baby wit' another woman," Remy added.

"Emma mentioned that, did she?"

"Never knew y' as de family man, Cyke. When was de last time you talked t' Rachel?"

"And Inever knew _you_ were the office gossip. If you'd like to do something better, I have plenty of assignments."

Anna recognized where this conversation was headed. "You mean you need some _cannon fodder_ to rally the _other_ cannon fodder. No thanks, sugah."

"No one could blame you for thinking that," said Scott, "If I seemed careless with your safety in the past, those were desperate times. _I _was desperate. That's not what this is. Besides, you two must be going crazy being walled up at the end of the world. I'm only asking you to do your civic duty."

Remy and Anna exchanged an unfinished look, which Scott took as the finale. No need to push them. He knew from experience that would only make the situation worse. The seeds of the idea were planted – now he only had to wait for it to take root or wilt away.

…..::::….

_Hezbaki Plateau, The Savage Land_

These people were superstitious and stupid… But they were strong. Stryfe could admire that. They taught him how to track and slaughter prey with their crude weapons, providing an excellent way to avoid the child. The less he had to endure that bizarre little bastard, the better, although he was never allowed to forget it. Sweet smelling flowers and adoration followed it wherever it went. Curiosity about it couldn't be satisfied, and everyone wanted to tell him how they'd known it in some past life.

The collective stories culminated in a re-enactment of the so-called messiah's story. Stryfe paid minimal attention; he focused instead on the herd of young children gathered in their mothers' arms. Why did they look so _familiar_? The favorite child was the son of the chieftain – a clumsy and stupid man – and his young, soft-hearted wife. The woman was called "priestess wife" and her child was "first son". Only later did Stryfe learn that they considered names sacred, but the bastard stood on no ceremony, calling them Laska and R'mi respectively. Undoubtedly, when it uttered the chieftain's _true_ name, these people would piss themselves in fear.

Turning back to the performance, Stryfe saw a banshee curse the tribe with infertility. For five years, they lamented and made sacrifices without luck. He especially enjoyed the scenes of human sacrifice – the screaming slaves being forced into the bon fire and then thrashing around dramatically. At last, the woman prophet appeared from the swamps with the key to their salvation. She foretold of her father's coming, and he arrived from the sky. His seed took root in what was once infertile ground, and now the tribe was rich in children. Finally, the virile father departed with a hairy, stocky fellow and a dark woman with snowy hair.

Realization slammed into Stryfe.

_Gambit_ had fathered these children! They were reflections of similar versions mothered by Rogue.

But Gambit – for all his charm and power – was as "divine" as Stryfe. He was no more holy than those who worshiped him. Most importantly, he was still _alive_, which meant he couldn't possibly be re-incarnated in this bastard.

Stryfe had it by the jugular and meant to expose it immediately. Sarah would confirm his word, and then the savages would burn it. Or, if they didn't kill it, they would certainly denounce it. But no sooner had the thought taken form in his mind when his throat suddenly clamped shut.

The little bastard turned its red-on-black eyes towards him.

'_Do you know why I allow you to live, Ethan?'_ asked an unseen voice. _'Because I require your services. You will do as I command and keep your __**thoughts**__ to yourself, or I shall find another pair of hands.'_

…

_To Be Continued…_


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the X-Men.

**LeBeau Legacy: The End  
Chapter Two: Made to Resemble  
**"The enemy of love is never outside. It's not a man or woman. It's what we lack in ourselves."  
~Anais Nin

_Maximum Security Prison  
Siberia, Russia_

Gambit knew the torment of a frozen wasteland. It wasn't a fate he'd wish upon many, but Sabretooth earned a place on that short list. Fittingly, he'd been responsible for executing the sentence.

Storm dreamed of founding a mutant police force, made of mutants and for the betterment of mutants. Some saw it as a form of segregation, but baselines couldn't respond even-handedly to mutant threats. It was time for _homo superior_ to hold themselves accountable for their incredible power. Storm headed this new revolution, and putting Sabretooth on trial had been a major milestone for her. His remote prison was both for his protection and security, although his enemies could still reach him.

Gambit did, but at great expense.

His ancient nemesis wasn't the towering mass of brute strength he'd once been. His lion's mane was weak and matted; his muscles deteriorated; and his bones as frail as bird's wings. Death came slowly for him.

"Christ almighty," Sabretooth groaned, "Don't say you've come to _rescue_ me."

His death was no more horrific than he deserved. Gambit was tempted to gloat. After all the misery and slaughter Sabretooth had created, he deserved much worse, but Gambit's didn't feel avenged. He felt… _old_.

"If Storm knew y' were sick, she'd move y' to another ward," said Gambit. "Make y' more comfortable."

"_Ha_!" He spit out a tooth and the blood splattered on Gambit's boot. "I've slept in worse places than this! Guess that mansion made you _soft_."

"How long you been dis way? Ain't never gonna end. With your healin' factor, you're just gonna keep gettin' better and gettin' sick again. No one here's strong enough to take you out. Only one man can. Tell me where Essex is and I'll bring him."

Creed gave a nearly toothless grin and retorted, "You didn't come to the end of the world to put me outta my misery. _Chasin' tail's_ all that bothers you. Whatever _bitch_ you're tryin' to save can die with me. Consider it a _parting gift_." Exhausted from his rant, he curled up like a kitten on his tiny, flat cot. His weakened body still bulged over the frame. "You never change, LeBeau. If a dumb beast like me knows it, you can bet _he_ knows it, too."

...:::...

_Valle Soleada_

"_Owie!"_ Becca whined as her mother pulled the lice comb through her hair.

Anna wore cheap rubber gloves to protect her skin, but they pulled at tender tresses and added to the girl's suffering. The entire bathroom smelled like a gas chamber. Across the way, Ollie sat on the toilet lid, miserable beneath his thickly oiled hair.

One of them picked up a louse – most likely from school – and shared it with the other. If they'd kept to their own beds, like Remy told them, this might not have happened. Of course, Remy wasn't here to witness this pest extermination. Nor was he present when the school called with the horrifying news. He'd only seen the school once, to insure it was tolerant enough. After that, he avoided the place, even though they'd invited him to speak to the children. Anna had also been invited and declined. Privacy, they said, even though everyone in town knew they were former superheroes. She used to teach, too, so she wasn't afraid of a classroom setting. No, it was the questions she knew she'd face.

'_Can you punch a train?'_

'_Punching a train isn't so cool once you get the bill,'_ she'd reply.

'_What do you do now?'_

What could she say? _'Oh, I fixed up cars for a while until one of the customers became mah lover. Now I tend to two children who don't need me and kill tiny bugs.'_

The phone rang and she ignored it. But it rang again – an unfamiliar number – and Anna worried it might've been Remy calling from a different line. No one else called. She told Ollie to answer it and put it on speaker phone.

"This is Dr. Harmon with Xavier Hospital. Is Mr. LeBeau available?"

"Ah'm afraid not. This is his wife. Can Ah help y'all with somethin'?"

"Is there another number I can reach him at?"

"If this is the number he gave ya, it's the only number ya get. Now what's this about?"

"Am I on speaker phone?"

"Yep."

"Can you please pick up? This is sensitive."

"As a matter of fact, Ah can't."

"Please, ma'am, I-"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!" Anna angrily tore away her cheap rubber gloves and picked up the telephone. "What's this about?"

There was a pause. "Mr. Greycrow slipped into a coma this afternoon. Mr. LeBeau is listed as his next-of-kin. If he'd like to visit before he passes, he should come soon."

Standing in her bra and tattered gym shorts, she suddenly sprang into action. Her next phone call went to Emma, who she instructed to use Cerebra to track Scalphunter. His energy should be weak, Anna said, then would vanish, and finally reappear much stronger. They only had a few moments, if any time at all. When John Greycrow resurrected, they'd have the location of Sinister's lab. Sinister wouldn't let Cerebra infiltrate his work space for long, and Scalphunter would quickly be thrown to work. Time was of the essence.

As an afterthought, she called Remy's cell. He didn't answer.

"Momma, this stuff make my eyes burn!" Ollie complained.

"Run a bath and wash it out," she ordered. "Both of you. Make sure you don't get it in your eyes. Ah'll be right back."

She zipped out before they could formulate any follow-up questions and slipped into the home office. There, she hacked into Remy's secret credit card that he didn't know she knew about. The one under the name 'Scott Summers'. His only purchase that month was for a plane ticket to Moscow. What was his doing in _Russia_?

When he said he'd be working, she'd learned not to ask questions. He wanted his privacy and she wanted to respect his boundaries: that was her excuse. The truth was she didn't care.

Only now it _mattered_.

The phone rang again; it was Emma.

"I only caught a glimpse. Looked like London."

"London?" She slumped back against the chair. "Ah thought we destroyed that one?"

"It's the last place we'd think to look."

Anna rubbed her forehead. "Could mah kids stay with you for a few days?"

"Rogue… Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Do you have a team closer?"

Emma hesitated, which wasn't like her. "Storm has a team on Muir Island, but she's been away for _months_. They're not ready for combat."

"Ah've gotta move on this."

"I thought you were retired?"

"_Retired_. Ah ain't _dead_."

…..::::…..

_JFK Airport  
New York_

Tess was too busy with Mr. Shaw's affairs to remember if she'd packed all her earthly possessions. She couldn't bring what she really wanted, anyway. Mr. Shaw had accounts to transfer, properties to manage, and documents to process or destroy. Any half-decent secretary could've managed, but Tess prided herself in making him as comfortable as possible. She'd spent the prior day reviewing his concerns, the previous night attending his less professional requirements, and the departure morning carrying his bags while calling the driver, pilot, and European house manager.

Shaw waited until they'd passed the airport security posts to ask, "Tessa, did you forget something?"

Offended, her concentration broke and re-focused on his implication.

Across the room was a tall blond with a carry-on bag. She looked bored, with just a hint of sorrow in her eyes, and she waited for Shaw to board before meeting Tess halfway across the room.

_The one thing she couldn't take._

Honor loathed good-byes but farewells to Tess were especially painful. She wouldn't have bothered to come at all, except for her father's encouragement. For all his romantic regrets, he actually had some clever insight into what a person _should_ do. He said if she didn't suffer now, she'd never have any closure.

Did Tess even care?

She didn't seem to, and for once, Honor chose not to go looking for secrets. If Tess wanted to leave withholding her love, then that was how Honor would remember her. No longer would she try to create an empire from nuggets of love, hidden deep in filthy secrets. Even her enemies loved her a _little_. She wanted more from Tess.

What would Honor say?

She still didn't know. How could she convey all her grief and sorrow and anger… and yes, still love. Always love. Even now, one word from Tess would turn them into runaway lovers. Honor would cut all ties to her family and friends to protect them from Shaw. If the Church didn't like it, they could condemn her. There wasn't a war she wouldn't fight for Tess. If love wasn't worth fighting for, then what was?

Of course, Tess had different priorities.

"I can't keep the pilot waiting," Tess said.

"Then go already."

Her blue eyes flashed with impatience but she stood firm. "I didn't mean to imply that I would not spend time with you. I only meant I could not linger."

"Always on the clock."

An uneasy silence settled between them as hurried flyers rushed around, chasing children and hunting for bags or taxis. Tess wanted privacy, and as a telepath, she had that option even in a crowded room. The two women had always communicated best when words weren't in the way, so she slipped onto the astral plane. Her mind reached out to find Honor's locked tight.

"If there's something you wanna say, say it," she warned, her eyes bright.

Instead, Tess eyed her carry-on bag. "Are you returning to New Orleans?"

"Yeah. Renegade's getting married."

"I remember."

If Tess felt guilty, she didn't let on. Renegade was Honor's adopted brother and a friend of Tess's. She wasn't just letting down her girlfriend; she'd failed an entire family. Finally, she added, "You will send my apologies, won't you?"

The slight crack in Tess's fortress shook Honor's foundation. She nodded and put a thumb nail between her teeth, wanting a cigarette.

"Are you coming back?"

"Yes. But I don't know when." She spoke as if it were just the weather. "I might be gone for years."

Honor was dying. The worst pain squeezed the life from her soul like an invisible, giant snake. "This is it, isn't it? You're really leaving…" She couldn't look at Tess. "When you get back… I won't be here."

…:::…

_North American Midwest _

Scott insisted Anna take the jet to London, and somewhere over Kansas, she finally agreed with him. It had been ages since she flew this far with her mutant powers, although she'd done it when she was still an active member. Several times. Nowadays her flying consisted mostly of taking the kids on a joy ride. They'd love the Dragonfly, which was small enough to be manned by one person, but large enough to pace on long trips. Anna planned to set the autopilot and dig into a paperback novel. Instead, she received a nasty call from Storm's Muir Island outpost.

"_This_ is why we're here, Rogue! To police the super powerful! There's no point in you traveling from _California_ when we're here!"

The fussy girl was some hot-headed Asian with mural skin. There were too many active members now – she couldn't keep up with them.

"The name's _Anna_. And no offense, sugah, but Sinister ain't some Danger Room simulation. This requires an experienced hand."

"We're coming with you."

She laughed. "Ah don't think so."

"How do you expect us to _get_ experience? Or do you plan to _come out of retirement_ every time Sinister shows up?"

"Ya'll go in there guns blazin', and he'll make mincemeat of ya. Then he'll stay low until he's ready for whatever he's got planned. That's what _experience_ tells me. One person goin' in quietly will get more done. But if you really wanna help, get Gambit out of Russia."

Fussy girl pursed her lips. "Go fetch. _That's_ our mission?"

"Take it or leave it."

Anna hung up and huffed at her snowy bangs. _Was that a bug?_ These rookies had no idea how a combat team worked. Rogue's first mission with the X-Men had been to Logan's wedding in Tokyo. It wasn't supposed to be a mission at all. They were sweeping her aside because no one wanted her around. Only when she took an unrequired hit to protect Mariko did the team begin to warm to her. Building trust and learning teamwork took years of work, but these new kids didn't see the blows, the heartache or the sacrifice. They saw the unity and felt entitled by desire.

The line bleeped with an incoming call.

Remy.

"Hello, lover. Ah was startin' to think you'd run off."

"Always come back, don't I?" He sounded relieved. "De petites okay?"

"We're fine. Ah got a call from Xavier Hospital. Scalphunter passed. Luckily Ah was able to call Emma in time-"

"_Summers_ knows about dis?"

"His signal came up again in London, so Ah'm on my way now."

"If you're trackin' Greycrow, he'll be gone by then."

"You know Ah've got bigger fish ta fry."

"Wait for me, Anna. I can be there in-"

"Ah'm sendin' a team to your location."

He paused. "How do you know where I am?"

"Ah'm your wife, Ah know everything."

…..::::…..

_Over Pennsylvania_

All cried out, Honor rested her head against her tiny window. The plane flew just over the clouds, which were smooth and tranquil as fresh snow. The sun was setting on the East Coast: a beautiful conclusion to a lousy day.

She was never coming back to New York. In her heart, she knew it was the best thing to do. There was nothing left for her here. Her father was in Valle Soleada with his new family; her mother, in New Orleans with hers. All of her truest friends had scattered to other colleges or missions overseas. And now Tess was gone, too. She still had her own academic career, but she could attend college anywhere.

Her parents would be disappointed, as her instructors had been, but life in New York had become unbearable. Her _real_ life was waiting to be discovered.

…..::::….

_The Savage Land_

The little bastard was in the chieftain's tent with his warriors, trying to send them into war with a neighboring tribe. The chief was more interested in hunting and farming, but would probably concede to keep peace within his own village. He was spineless.

Meanwhile, Stryfe roamed the beaten paths. At the center of all the roads was a water-well, and when Stryfe arrived, he was greeted by the chieftain's son. Gambit's son.

"Gweetings, outwander!" the boy said, dancing around like a bird.

Killing him would be easy, and Stryfe hoped it would cause Gambit pain.

"First son!" his mother called, "Come and help me."

The little bird flapped away and Stryfe followed. He didn't help the woman and child with their bags of water: he merely watched them struggle. As a guest, he wouldn't be asked to help. He could tell that his indifference angered her, but if she spoke out of turn, he could kill her, too. She was slight, held together by tiny joints and skin so white he could see the blue veins beneath. The more he studied her, the less she resembled her son. She had brown eyes and golden hair; he had hazel eyes and coffee hair, and the sharp, distinctive looks of a LeBeau.

"You're a whore," Stryfe told her. "I know who fathered your son, and he's as _selfish_ as you are _stupid_."

She pulled herself to her full height.

He wasn't impressed.

"I am a holy vessel for the virgin goddess!" She fearlessly proclaimed. "I was chosen first by the messiah to know his love, and chosen first by the goddess to bear his child! I have freed my people from the bondage of fear and death, and I shall _not_ be disgraced by a man beloved of _no_ god!"

She made him feel small under the scrutiny of her faith. Enraged, his hands gripped her swan-like neck and squeezed off the blood flow. She fell to her knees, digging at his hands and silently pleading with her dark eyes. The boy jumped on his back, striking Stryfe's head with his tiny club, but she was close to death now.

Suddenly, his hands froze in place, his fingers loosened, and she scrambled away, coughing and dragging her son. Stryfe's fingers continued to peel back until they snapped: breaking one by one, like branches in a storm. He took her place on the ground. Like her, he refused to cry out. He knew the little bastard was punishing him, and Stryfe refused to give him any reward.

It approached him calmly, followed by the chief and warriors. It's black and red eyes released its invisible grip on his hands. Stryfe knew no one would help him set his broken bones. In fact, a quick death now might be preferable to what was in store.

...:::...

_Sinister's Underground Base  
London_

Memories of the guilt and horror descended and stuck to him like spider webs. The last time Remy was here, he'd been dancing with the devil. Rogue was very close to death, having absorbed millions of minds and losing herself among them. The X-Men couldn't help. Moira couldn't help. But Sinister offered a solution. A mutant baby had been born with the ability to heal with a touch, and if Gambit acquired it for Sinister, the scientist would use it to help Rogue. That's why Sinister saw such great results – he wasn't restricted by ethics or morality. And neither was Remy, when it came to Anna.

And then, like a beacon of hope, her voice called to him: "Sug, do Ah need your key or mine ta open this door?"

"After you, _chere_."

She flew towards the enormous steel doors and ripped them as easily as tin cans. Careful to avoid the debris, he followed her on foot. Not all the booby traps would be this easy: some required his subtlety. But between the two of them, Sinister couldn't hold out for long.

After years of silence, Remy was first to shatter the un-forged treaty between himself and his merciless savior. Sinister had once hovered over every aspect of Remy's life, like a ghost under the bed, which robs the dweller of sleep and replaces peace with terror. But distance had turned the villain into nothing more than the memory of a nightmare. It seemed that nightmare had reached through to haunt another, and perhaps his silence wasn't one of indifference but of reconnaissance.

Remy slipped through the zig-zag of deceptively frail laser beams. Invincible or not, Anna wasn't going to risk setting off the internal self-destruction protocols, and Remy wasn't going to give up the biggest challenge he'd encountered in ages.

"Those are combat strength lasers!" she cried, "The slightest slip-"

With a steady breath, he replied, "Nag, nag, nag."

He skipped through the locked web of red laser beams and smiled broadly.

"Yeah, well…" She begrudgingly agreed. "_Ah'm_ the one with something to lose!"

"Me too, Anna. Hush now. Daddy's workin'."

His deft fingers brushed the lock pad, sending a gentle charge through the computer system. The wires buckled back to default, and the final door slid away, disappearing into the metallic walls. Anna strode through quickly, as if scouting the area before he was exposed to further danger.

The scene before them explained the smell of death. Experiments had been left running, and had now either burned out, run over, or shrieked with unanswered alarms. A portion of the laboratory had been wrecked, but not destroyed. Notes had been burned and vials shattered in a struggle. And at the center of the entropy lay the bodies of Scalphunter and Sinister, covered with coagulated blood. Flies and other insects flocked to and from their wounds.

"Scalphunter was determined to be free," Remy said.

"He had to _fight_ for it," Anna finished. "Sinister mortally wounded him, but he still managed to finish him."

"So we're _free_ of him?"

"Maybe, maybe not… He's been clonin' for ages, and here we've got a dead-ringer. It's a pretty fancy way of turnin' out the lights and hidin' behind the couch, don't ya think?"

"Sinister never was one t' avoid conversation."

"Especially with mah sweetie. Ah think the good doctor got in over his head."

"Bold statement. Who's got _Sinister_ running?"

"No idea, but Ah hope they're on our side."

...:::...

_Black Cat Bar  
New Orleans_

"Put your pants on, boys! I'm breakin' up this sausage-fest!"

Honor walked with open arms through the rowdy club to three familiar faces sitting quietly at the bar. Nate Summers was the only one old enough to legally drink, but sensibly sipped club soda. Despite a skunk stripe crowning his auburn hair, he'd once been attractive. Years ago, Legacy Virus rotted out most of his flesh, and as a result, his left eye, both hands and left arm were mechanical. Something about his skeletal, metallic fingers still sent chills up Honor's spine. Hulk-ish Uri clutched a rum and coke nervously, looking sadder than he ought. He wasn't the groom, after all, merely the best man. Renegade, slender and dark, threw back his shot of whiskey and hissed.

"Finally a babe at dis bachelor party, and it's my _sister_. You're de worst best man ever."

"He's right," said Honor, greeting them with bodily hugs. "Sam! A round to go! We've gotta get outta here and find some girls."

"We hoped Tess was coming with you," Uri's words slurred.

"You know that girl can't take any time off," she said dismissively.

The sad truth was that their once tight-knit group was unraveling, and all the sad predictions made by their mentors were coming to pass. Nate had given up a promising career as an X-Man for pre-med school in Alaska. Uri attended community college in New Jersey and was dating someone his friends had never met. Tess had detached herself so completely that Honor wondered if she'd ever been there at all. And no one knew what had happened to Ethan. Last word placed him in South America with Magneto, but that was three years ago. Now Renegade was eighteen and getting married… And all the secrets Uri buried were boiling to the surface again.

They soon forgot the giant mess they were. At _The Red-Headed Stepchild_, the music was louder, the drinks were stronger, and the girls friendlier. They gladly threw themselves into the party, but there was a sadness lingering that wouldn't shake.

"Do you think they'll be happy?" Nate asked her.

They had collapsed in a booth, sweaty and weak, and dawn was quickly closing in.

"Arranged marriages can end 'happily ever after', too," she replied. "It's the _Guild_ that poisons things…"

"You don't talk about it much."

"You're an outsider," she shrugged. "But as a friend, I'm sayin'… he's not ready. Momma _pushed_ this, and he's gonna fail and blame _her_. It's all gonna fall on _me_."

"Did you tell him that?"

"He's my _brother_, Nathan."

"So no?"

"He might surprise us. My father was supposed to be a catastrophe, too. And look, he's only a disaster."

They decided the party was over. She fetched Uri but René wasn't ready to leave. Presumably, he would only stop partying long enough to stumble to the altar. Honor was too tired to argue and left him behind.

René didn't know why he felt this way. All his life, he wanted a family, and now he was starting one. Marie was his first kiss, his first love. He'd never know the heartbreak of living without her. So why did he feel so… _suffocated_?

The New Orleans Guild didn't belong to him the way it belonged to Marie and Honor. They were born into it; born _for_ it. René, on the other hand, was Bella Donna's adopted son. Without his sister and mother (and his soon-to-be-bride), the Guild would throw him out cold. Just like the _Manhattan_ Guild had done.

"Drownin' your sorrows, boy?" asked Vaughn Daumier, slapping him on the back.

Vaughn was a bottom-feeding Thief who'd risen above his family with his smoldering good-looks.

René flinched at his touch. "_What did you call me?"_

"Don't make dis a race thing. You're a boy, I'm a boy... Holly, another round for de niggar. See, now _dat's_ an insult."

René shoved him away and reached for the blade in his jacket.

"Out!" barked Holly. "Both of you! Time to go!"

Vaughn was alone when René and his friends found him later that night. One Thief against three Assassins was an unfair fight, but René was done being disrespected. No one would miss a pick-pocket, anyway. A dark alley didn't hide their work, but people quickly walked past without a word. Maybe they'd call the cops, but by the time they arrived, Vaughn would be dead. Luckily for him, Mercy LeBeau had been at the bar and called Vaughn's uncle at the first sign of danger.

"Get your boys down here quick! Renegade's gonna kill'm!"

She nervously clutched her cell phone as René put his blade to use. Vaughn's shouts turned from anger to terror, and the useless device cracked in her hand.

Clayton didn't wait for his friends. He and Vaughn had been as close as brothers since birth, and his rage assured him that he could take on any number of Assassins. His black pick-up truck tore recklessly around the corner and its headlights rounded on the attackers, who fled like roaches in the light. Good thing, too – he would've run them down, given the chance.

He bailed from the vehicle without killing the engine and pulled Vaughn off the pavement. He was bleeding profusely and screaming incoherently. Undoubtedly, scores of people inside could hear him, but no one came to his rescue.

Clayton would kill them later.

He threw his cousin into the truck and raced away. Vaughn thrashed and screamed, but when Clayton asked where he was hurt worst, he received no answer.

"I'm takin' y' t' de hospital!"

"_Non_!" Vaughn said, rolling onto his side and grabbing his crotch. "No hospitals!"

Clayton turned on the dashboard light and noticed the darkest blood poured from between his legs. _"Fuckin' Rippers!"_ He roared, punching the light out. "I'm callin' Tante Mattie!"

By the time they reached her tiny wooden house by Lake Pontchartrain, Vaughn had gone white and mostly stopped bleeding. Poor Clayton didn't know if this was a good or bad thing. He carried his cousin's long, heavy body inside and dropped him on the bed as instructed. Tante Mattie had long been the Guild's healer, birthing babies and mending bones, and sadly, healing wounds like this when the Guilds clashed.

She pushed aside Vaughn's modest hands and saw the damage inflicted.

"Rags! Water!" she barked at Clayton.

He nearly ran through the wall to obey.

She turned back to the boy, whose skin was already grafting over his exposed muscles. The cruel gash between his legs healed into a weak, soft nub like raw chicken. Within the hour, his missing genitals had reformed, and Vaughn's labored breathing slipped mercifully into sleep.

…..::::…..

_Over the Mid-Atlantic Ocean_

The ride back was a long and quiet one. At least, it appeared that way. Inside, Anna was a wreck. Her blood charged through a racing heart, which sang with pleasure at its renewed purpose. Why had she ever left the X-Men? _This_ was where she belonged – fighting beside Remy to bring down the bad guys! And he _certainly_ belonged in the field. Anyone who saw his skill and passion knew it. However, her mind recalled all her responsibilities. The twins needed stability. How could she leave them at every disaster? Especially now: since she didn't have the built-in baby-sitters provided by Belle and her kids. And _Remy_ wasn't going to be the responsible one and sacrifice his heart's desires. But how could she sit by, tending babies, while her friends and family charged into battle? Was she wasting her gift? Her Momma certainly thought so. How did someone with invulnerability, super-strength, and flight contribute in the common world, anyway?

In the end, her body tipped the scales. Exhilaration stroked the flames of selfish pleasure: as shameful and long hidden as her most intimate flesh. She hadn't _settled_ for Remy. Their path together was full of turns and dead-ends; mountains to climb and oceans to cross. A trail of blood and tears lay behind them, and that's what they loved. How had she forgotten? How had she ever silenced the unspoken yearning to always be with him? She would find a way to work in the field again. It wouldn't be easy, but it was where her soul came alive.

"Stop it," he said.

"What?"

"Yellin' at me."

"Ah'm yellin' at you?"

"Wit' your eyes."

He'd seen the fire there and mistook it for rage.

She pretended to check the controls, considering ways to get his clothes off.

"I should've told you sooner," he sighed. "Greycrow came to me eaten with cancer. All he wanted was t' pass peacefully. I promised I'd help."

"Did ya think Sinister could be _reasoned_ with?"

"I had t' _try_. Problem lies in him bein' AWOL."

"That's a _problem_?"

"The more I looked, de less help I got. Greycrow's not de only one… Sabretooth's sick, too. Vertigo and Archlight been missin' since last winter."

"Ah don't get it."

"_Clones_, chere. Someone's destroyin' his clones."

Her racing heart froze. They knew others who'd been cloned by Sinister, but one was very dear.

"What about Belle?"

Anna abruptly realized what a fool she'd been. Of course Belle was dying. That was the only explanation for her recent behavior: moving to New Orleans, retiring from the Guild, marrying her beau and having him adopt her youngest child, and pushing Renegade to get married. Naturally, Remy wouldn't tell anyone. Belle was his childhood sweetheart, ex-wife, and the mother of his child. In that respect, he cared deeply for her. However, she'd also kept Honor's identity a secret for the first eleven years of her life. Not until her untimely death did Remy learn of his daughter's existence. Soon after, Honor struck a deal with Sinister to clone her mother, and this woman had been accepted as the real Bella Donna ever since. Now Anna felt like a royal ass. She'd spent years resenting Belle's place in Remy's life, which was a role she clearly never wanted.

"And Maddie," Anna realized with a deepening pain.

Madelyne Pryor had been married to Cyclops, and was the mother of his oldest son. Nate was one of Honor's closest friends. Maddie had been all benevolence to the LeBeaus, and they naturally responded in kind. It was almost impossible to believe how bizarre her behavior had been after her divorce, when she learned she had been cloned from Jean Grey.

"Does _Scott_ know? How could you… _Why didn't you tell me before?"_

"I didn't want you involvin' every X-Man in de world and leavin' de petites alone!"

"So _my place_ is at _home_? Emma's right – you ain't nothin' but a _narrow-minded swamp rat_!"

"_I_ said dat!"

"Well, shut the front door! You were _right_!"

"But I _never_ said your place was at _home_! **You** made dat choice!"

"What _choice_ did Ah have, Remy? _What choice did Ah have?!_ **You've** got all the power! _You_ knocked me up-"

"Don't put dat on me!"

"_You_ decided when we got married!"

"Did ya not wanna marry?"

"_You_ decided we'd live with Belle in New York-"

"Honor needed us!"

"And _you_ decided we'd move _four thousand miles_ away from everyone we knew! Ah've been _nothin'_ but your damn tag-along!"

Rage finally pushed the words out his throat.

"Was _that_ de appeal of cheatin'? For once, _you_ were in control."

She looked like she'd been struck.

"I'm not mad, _chere_… But I don't wanna lose my family over dis. And I'm _tired_ of it comin' between us. It ain't worth it. I _know_ it aint."

"Wait… _How_ do you know?" she asked.

The guilt in his eyes confirmed her suspicions.

"Did you love her?"

"_You're_ the love of my life, Anna. Forget everyone else. I wanna be with _you_. But… if you wanna be with him-"

She wanted to punch him. Instead, she grabbed a fistful of his beautiful hair and slammed her lips against his. He tore off her jacket and they crashed together on the hard, metal floor. No tender prologue preceded their violent joining. Greedy hands and selfish flesh took and struck and crushed. Finally, a throaty groan slipped between bloody lips, and all the anger between them melted into a deep pool of pleasure. It was a love that burned. No one else understood or would tolerate the fire. Just beyond the pain, they were one body and mind. This was why he always came back, and the reason she stayed. Infinity could stretch across lonely universes when soul mates parted.

…..::::…..

_New Orleans_

"I don't believe it!" was Bella Donna's response to the news. "He couldn't be so _stupid_. Get René in here."

Downstairs, Mercy and Frederick were beside themselves. She fretted over Vaughn's collar until he pushed her aside, and then she fretted with Frederick's salted hair.

"I can't believe our luck! Why didn't you tell me you were a mutant?" she clucked.

"Not exactly somet'ing I like t' advertise."

"De Boudreauxes owe you everyt'ing short of their lives. You should ask for Honor's hand."

"No," Vaughn quickly answered. "It should be her choice."

"He's right," agreed Frederick. "It would be in bad taste… To be so forward."

"It's what we've been working for," she argued. "Pushin' for his Master's mark, movin' his family t' Texas, keeping him outta de damn whore house for _two years_-!"

"I won't force her," Vaughn repeated.

Frederick mauled over his thoughts for a moment. "Bella Donna would never consent to de marriage. We'll ask her to not object, should Honor choose Vaughn."

This pleased them both.

Bella Donna had never been good at disguising her emotions. When she greeted the Daumiers, Vaughn saw a hurricane stirring behind her violet eyes. Mercy was clever enough to flee before her late-husband's former sister-in-law arrived, but offenses had already been made. This was not a woman in the mood for granting favors, but she would grant them all the same. Three paces behind her walked her adopted son. His dark skin helped hide the bruises on his face, but his eyes burned with outrage. Other than the white suit and his freshly washed dreadlocks, he didn't look like a man on his wedding day.

Belle briskly offered tea, which they declined. It might have been laced with poison.

Pleasantries aside, she almost shouted, "Where's _Franco_? His _father_ should be here."

"You know I'm Vaughn's guardian."

"Oh, dat's right. Your brother's a _drunk_ too ashamed t' show his face." To Vaughn, she said, "Good t'ing you got such _helpful_ kin. Oncle Frederick. Tante Mercy. Or is she-? I'm sorry, I can't keep up with dat girl's lovers. Which one of you is she screwin'?"

"Insult your kin on your own time," said Vaughn. "We're here because your _boy_ tried t' kill me."

"He looks worse den you. Far as I can tell, _you_ attacked _him_."

Frederick flushed with rage. "He has a mutant healing power!"

"_You claim_. Convenient alibi."

"Go ahead and cut me," Vaughn scoffed, "I know you want to, even though it'll prove me right."

Her eyes flashed. "Another scuffle between de Guilds. Not de first or de last and no permanent damage, so no need for compensation. Now I trust you gentlemen can escort yourselves out. I've wasted enough time on my son's weddin' day wit' dis _child's play_."

Frederick leapt to his feet. "René attacked him! _Neutered_ him! He-!"

"He reminded _your_ _boy_ of _his place_!" Belle stormed. "I want you both out of my city. _Tonight_."

Vaughn laughed. "You're joking! It's not _your_ city anymore. You handed it to dat _puppy_ when you married rag-head."

"_Get out."_

No one moved.

Finally, René spoke: "Why'd ya come? What did ya s'pect?"

Belle and Frederick were too stunned to speak.

It was Vaughn who answered, "I _came_ because you're a _coward_ and I _expected_ y' to _act_ like one. Y' didn't disappoint. But expected _better_ of you, Bella Donna."

"Alright, time to go, son," said Frederick.

"_Honor's_ de future of dis Guild!" Vaughn called over his shoulder. "_Not you!"_

…..::::…..

_The Savage Land_

The Hezbakis, while not cowardly, were peace-loving people. The chief hadn't seen a battle since his childhood, when a woman single-handedly destroyed his family. A score of warriors stormed her dwelling, tied her to a pit, and burned her alive. That fight was brief, but left the village scarred for five years until the prophet brought the messiah.

That was just a scuffle. How would a full-fledged war against the Balkans change their lives?

The child god wanted an unannounced attack, but the chief wouldn't slaughter men in their sleep, women gathering food, and the harmless children huddled in their arms. There was no glory in _slaughter_. Hopefully, the Balkans had moved their children to a nearby village, safe from plunder should their ancestors fail to protect them. Their women were armed and naked, prepared to die with their husbands. Hezbaki women didn't fight, but came to the battlefield as nurses and angels of mercy. Should their husbands die, they would be the first spoils of war.

Both tribes had spies and traps hidden in the wildness, no doubt. The Hezbakis had the high ground, but the Balkans were defending their homeland. The Balkans had more warriors, but Hezbakis had the advantage of beasts trained to attack on command. Neither side could predict the outcome, but both had gods promising them victory.

The chief, young and kind, was unprepared to lead his men into war, but honor demanded he be the first to risk his life. Into the chaos he plunged. The first man he killed made him vomit. The second made him piss and scream. After that, he couldn't account for who he struck and who he killed. Sometimes he wasn't even sure he was attacking the enemy. His own wounds went unfelt, fear empowering him past the threshold of ordinary men.

He stumbled over a body and realized it was the man who taught him how to hunt. His half-brother Blessed One lay injured, but the surge of bodies kept the chief from helping or bidding him a final farewell. A Balkan woman sliced through five Hezbaki warriors before receiving a swift stab to the gut. She was beautiful – not yet married – and the last pair of eyes she saw was the eyes of her executioner. A stranger. The chief watched as her insides spilled out, her bowls released, and she fell in still, final agony. She'd been someone's child.

The victory horn trumpeted and the Balkans retreated.

The Hezbaki chief signaled for his warriors to retreat as well. Both sides gathered their dead and carried away the wounded. Young Balkan warriors who found their lovers dead said their final prayers and fell on their weapons. Hezbaki widows cried until their throats bled.

There was no glory in war.

…

_To Be Continued…_


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the X-Men.

**The LeBeau Legacy: The End  
Chapter Three: Holding Up the Sky  
**"We are all at the mercy of another one's dream."  
~Sam Baker

_New Orleans_

Feeling jetlagged and child-weary, Remy shot to life at the sight of New Orleans. The familiar sounds greeted him - old and yet full of youthful energy. The city smells lingered with fire and bayou, and everywhere were faded embellishments fighting for predominance. The twins weren't impressed. They felt trapped without the ocean at their backs. Every ancient wooden building and low-hanging oak tree posed a hazard to them, and they clung to Anna's side for comfort. At the cemetery, they finally relaxed. Leggy and wild, they galloped through the paths, leapt over headstones, and hid behind crypts only to burst forth with a shrill. They followed their parents with loose reluctance, perplexed when they stopped at a certain grave. Quietly, Becca took her brother's hand and they gathered at the marker.

Henri LeBeau.

Twelve years ago, he had bled to death in Remy's arms. He'd tried to warn his brother that Julien Boudreaux was still alive and seeking vengeance. Julien killed Henri for spite and might've killed Remy, too, if not for his brother's sacrifice. Would Henri have done it all over again? Doubtlessly. Henri was the sort of man who treats his adopted brother like blood kin. He never criticized Jean-Luc's decision to take in a half-grown feral boy, and never lost patience while Remy struggled to assimilate. He gave up date nights with Mercy to baby-sit, and later, when Remy was old enough for date nights, Henri gave up his car. Julien peppered the bumper more than once.

"How old was Uncle Henri when he died?" asked Becca, cleverly noting the lack of dates.

"Oh, he was old, petite, but he still had a lot of life left."

"Is that how he died?"

Anna tried to hush her, but Remy shook his head. "Your sister's Uncle Julien killed him. Julien was sick in de head and thought I was bad for Honor's momma. He wanted t' kill me and Henri stopped him. That's how he died."

"If he hadn't," Anna said, "none of us would be here."

Twelve years, and it was still painful.

The twins were growing restless.

"Is that his picture?" asked Ollie, giggling at the faded portrait below his name. "_You_ should grow a mustache like that!"

"Took 'm fifteen years to grow that thing!" Remy laughed. "I ain't even been shavin' that long. And de only reason he never cut it was because he couldn't grow anything on top!"

"Do you think Uncle Henri would be glad we're here?" Becca asked. "Even though he isn't?"

"_Oui, petite_. He was de better man. I wouldn't give you up for a _dozen_ nieces."

…..::::…..

_The Savage Land_

Stryfe had been led to a cave high atop a steep mountain. With fingers that had healed in the gnarled shape in which they had been broken, he would never be able to climb down.

His only company was an occasional visit from Sarah, who brought him the supplies he needed to survive. _She_ seemed to thrive in this barbaric place. Her idea of a good meal was insect larva carried in edible leaves, and she set up a system to help him catch rain water to drink. A series of plant stems collected and dumped fresh water into a shallow bowl. When he fumed that he couldn't lift the bowl with his broken hands, she told him to get on his elbows and drink like an animal.

He kicked her until she left, and she didn't return.

Alone with his pride, his unkempt beard collected most of the water for itself. He was beginning to stink, too. The smell of urine, feces, and rotted teeth clung to him.

He didn't want to die, but he didn't want to live like this, either.

Before he threw himself off the cliff, he chief visited. Two armed warriors accompanied him, but waited at the foot of the mountain with spears glittering in the moonlight. As the chief climbed closer, Stryfe thought how easy it would be to push him to his death. Did the guards below think he wouldn't welcome death?

Even in the dark, Stryfe could tell the chief was disgusted at his appearance.

"I have come to offer you mercy," said the chief. "You must understand that for attacking my wife, there is only one punishment. The only option is how long to delay the end of your suffering." He hesitated, and when Stryfe remained silent, continued: "Tell me about the plague you have unleashed upon my people. How can it be stopped?"

A true smile graced Stryfe's scarred face.

Back at the village, the funeral pyres burned. Women wailed for their lost sons and husbands. Men tended their wounds and ate food that tasted dry and dull. The priestesses made sacrifices to the gods, ensuring the departed souls would be granted easy access to the paradise beyond. The man who had led them to victory was nowhere to be found, and his wife had retreated for silent prayer.

Laska tore a piece of papyrus and scribbled in writing as largely as she dared – _kill the messiah child_. Then she let it catch flame and burn. The smoke would carry her prayers to heaven. Hopefully, the gods would not lose her request.

…..::::…..

_New Orleans _

"We lookin' for de perfect man for 'er." Tante Mattie rubbed her hands together and said knowingly, "Not de perfect_ man_, hear. Just de perfect man for _Honor_. He need t' be a Capricorn, Taurus or Cancer. We take a Scorpio, too, but dat not good for de parents-"

Honor approached the table and knocked Tante Mattie on the shoulder. An ordinary woman would've lost her runes, but not this matchmaker. Like her reputation, she was unshakeable. She'd been arranging marriages for the Guild for decades now, and Honor was by far the most reluctant bride she'd ever worked with. That suited Mattie just fine. She'd remain undecided for as long as possible, taking the suitors' bribes and keeping the girl on a shelf until the perfect match presented itself. Even with a love-match and willing parents, negotiations could still be long and taxing – although not so much anymore, now that Candra was out of the way. Of course, Mattie pretended to be concentrating deeply to keep Bella Donna content.

Honor folded her arms and sulked. "Aren't you happy getting _one_ child married off?"

"Can never start t' early," warned Tante Mattie with a wagging finger. "Dis ain't no easy t'ing! De stars need t' be in _perfect_ alignment! Y' need a man wit' money t' keep your mother happy; one wit' manners t' keep your father happy; and one who sets your loins aflame f'r you!"

"_Tante Mattie!"_ Honor's face burned crimson.

The house was bustling with excitement, which reverberated throughout the entire city and beyond. Guilds everywhere braced for the impact of this impending union.

Eighteen years ago, Bella Donna and Remy created an uneasy union between the Thieves and Assassins with their brief marriage. The truce survived due to the birth of their daughter, which both Guilds followed. How one person could lead two Guilds, two councils, and two dynasties proved an impossible task. So Bella Donna adopted a young man named René as her own son. Prior to the adoption, he'd been initiated as a Thief, and afterwards as an Assassin. Technically, he belonged to _both_ Guilds – if not both dynasties – and so Renegade would lead with his sister once he reached the age of majority. He may have been a Thief by training, but he was _clearly_ Belle's son.

Rene's bride, Marie-Therese, had been groomed by Bella Donna since childhood. Naturally, the Thieves were feeling threatened. Honor was the elder, they argued, she should've been married first. But she was in no hurry to marry, regardless of what her brother did. Anyway, the New Orleans Thieves (and it _had_ to be a Thief since Rene married an Assassin) boasted no clear forerunner for her hand. It wasn't really the marriage that bothered them, but the possibilities it presented. Maybe Honor would shed her crown, and Marie would gladly pick it up. The Thieves would be all but a memory. What if Marie bore a child first? Would _her_ children inherit the LeBeau legacy?

"Party's over, ladies!" Remy's voice called throughout the house. "Papa's home!"

Honor ran out the room to the cries of, "Sissy! Sissy!"

"Oh, my kiddies!"

She swept Ollie in one arm and Becca in the other. They'd grown – _a_ _lot_ – since she'd last seen them. They'd never be as tall as she was, but they were much too tall to carry around like _petites_ anymore. When had she lost that?

It seemed like just last year Ollie came into her bedroom at night, crying because his parents were out on a mission… And sweet Becca had been the sunshine of the family, always seeing the best in everyone and everything. Was she sad that her big sister was gone? Or did she only see how happy her mother was to be free of Belle and her children?

Remy had always tried to do right, and always failed someone. He stayed in New York to be with his ex-wife and daughter, but the moment Honor moved to the city to study at Juilliard, he was on a plane to California. She'd been so hurt. Surely, he'd never meant to go so long without seeing her…

He came into her sight as the twins slid from her grasp.

"Hey, Pop…"

"Hey, _catin_," he said and snatched her up.

She was twelve years old again and he'd just returned from a weeks-long mission. He hadn't stepped off the hanger before she was in his arms and they were the only people in the world. This was ages ago, when their family was just they two, before the additional women and children joined.

He set her down and the reunited family merged into a mass of perennial voices and sporadic embraces.

The commotion drew out Hero, Belle's youngest daughter. At Remy's prompting, she signed a greeting, but she wasn't the _hugging_ type. Bishop's daughter by blood, she'd never taken to Remy, despite years under his care and never having met her biological father. Even now, she sized him up with her mother's bright violet eyes on Bishop's dark face.

"Ah think she's taller than Ollie now!" Anna marveled.

"Nuh-HUH!"

"Stand closer."

He put his arm around Hero's neck. "See how tall I am?"

"Sissy," said Becca, "Are you staying with us now?"

"You bet!"

"T'ink she's got a couple inches on you, son," Remy said. To Hero, he signed: _"You're gonna be tall like your momma, Hero… Is it 'Patal' now?"_

Impatiently, she corrected, _"P-A-T-E-L. __**E!**__"_

"Oh, wit' an 'e' on de end?"

She stomped her little foot so that her blond curls shook like the tail on a rattlesnake.

Anna asked Honor: "Where's the dressin' room? I need ta get the kids washed before the weddin'."

"You know what, it might be easier if we-"

Hero signed to the twins: _"I'll show you where they hide the candy!"_ and the three of them galloped away unceremoniously.

"Might be easier ta _hog tie_ 'm," Anna huffed.

"I'd better pay my respects t' de head honcho. Where _is_ y' momma?" asked Remy.

Honor's lips pursed. "Trying to find a husband for _me_."

"Tryin' t' push her happiness on t' everyone, 'parently. _Excusez moi_."

There was no doubt where Belle was creating her latest conspiracy: in the Assassin's not-so-secret secret room. To him, the place still felt like forbidden territory, and he was never as easy with his enemies as Belle. A large part of him wanted to scoop up his children and run to Valle Soleada, where he knew they'd be safe. That feeling was amplified when he finally found his ex-wife in the company of the Guild match-maker.

"Is dis de year of love, Tante Mattie?" he asked.

"Never too early," she warned ambiguously.

"Maybe y' don't remember, but last time you two put your heads together, Mercy put a hex on dis family and dat poor boy ended up dead."

"Stop diggin' up de past," Belle said. "Dis is about de _future_. We're discussin' Honor's potential suitors. Y' got any suggestions? Of course y' don'," she answered without hesitation. "Please shut de door behind y'-"

"Why're you in such a hurry t' ditch your youngin's? You plannin' t' _leave_ us, Belle?"

Those words made her go cold, as he knew they would.

"For a beautiful woman, you ain't lookin' so good," he said, not unkindly. "I told y' before I wouldn't let 'm starve. We bastards gotta stick together."

There could be no mistake: she knew that he knew. If he'd confronted her privately, she might've denied it. But here, she couldn't acknowledge his suspicion without confirming it. She was in his debt for his silence.

"_You_ don't stick t' _anyone_, LeBeau, dat's your problem," she replied. "But perhaps you're right about m' health. I've been neglectin' myself, and it's showin'. Honor's marriage can wait till she's done wit' school. Dat's where her heart is, and where it should _stay_."

_Meanwhile…_

It was a day blessed by the saints. Early spring in Cajun country meant a strong sun and cold breeze, which only chilled the thinnest blood. The gators were emerging, the plants were in bloom, and the world ripened with promise.

The bride, Marie-Therese Gardot, was the personification of the season: young and aglow, blessed with wide hips and large breasts for easy child-bearing. Granted, she was under five foot tall and her groom tall, but her pain tolerance was legendary. Despite her scars, she was extraordinarily beautiful. Her skin was the color of café au lait; her hair: long, black and silky. Her eyes, which had been so serious and strong since her uncle Gris-Gris passed fourteen years ago, were bright and soft today.

While the women busied themselves with the placement of the bridal veil, Honor snuck away to the men's room.

"What's it like," asked Uri, "being with a woman?"

"What's it like, bein' wit' a mon?" Renegade countered.

"Hell if I know. Nineteen years old and I've never even been _kissed_…" His dark mood suddenly brightened and he puffed up his chest. "But maybe that'll change when Phillipe sees me in this!"

Uri strutted in his suit that was too small across the shoulders and too short at the ankles.

Everyone shared a laugh.

It was a joyous day when smiles and laughter came easy, but perhaps out of nerves, René could only muster a courtesy smile.

Honor knocked on the door and asked, "Everyone decent?"

"_My virtue!"_ Uri exclaimed in falsetto.

"Oh, René!" she clasped her hands together. "Gimme a kiss, good-looking!"

One last time, Honor tied his bow-tie. She adored him in bright colors; the white suit made his black skin glow. But there was a nasty bruise hidden beneath his left eye, swelling like an open secret.

"You didn't _really_ attack Vaughn, did you?"

He pushed her away. "Momma sent you. You gonna lecture me about doin' my own dirty work, too? Tell me how hard _she_ worked to unite de Guilds! _Too_ hard to lose it to a _cretin_ like me!"

"I don't care what _Momma_ said. Vaughn can be an ass, but he's my _friend_."

"He had it comin'!"

"Maybe, but not from _you_. You're _better_ than that, René. The Guilds' impression of you should be today, lookin' sharp and happily in love… We don't need rumors of street fights-"

"Must be so easy for you, _Sissy_ \- sittin' on your ass in New York, droppin' by t' tell me everyt'ing I'm doin' wrong!"

Her face flushed and the room went still.

"You want a busted _nose_ to match that _eye_?"

"Keep the blood splatter down," Uri interjected. "This is a rental!"

The tension ebbed and Nate stepped between them. "Look guys, you've both said this place makes you crazy. But I know Renegade doesn't go around just beating people up, and 'On doesn't take sides against her family. What's going on?"

René crossed his arms and told Honor: "He ain't your friend and he's bad for business. Wouldn't be here if not for you."

"So?"

"He's _bad for business_ and _I_ want him _gone_. He's only here for _your_ pleasure."

"My _pleasure?_ Who's speaking, please? Uncle Julien! Have you possessed my brother?"

But the tension had rooted too deeply to give way to humor, and the fight took a darker turn.

Renegade said, "Did you hear dat I hunted him down? Caught him mid-piss and sliced off his prick? His tongue was gonna be next, but his cousin showed up. Dat's de truth. Didn't t'ink he'd show his face around after dat, but I reckon his kin smelled a bribe. You know what dey wanted? _You_. Dey all think you and Momma run de show. I don't get anything but disrespect, and it's gonna _stop_."

Honor wanted to punch him. Instead, she took a deep breath and gathered whatever enchantment skill she'd inherited from her father.

"No, you're right… You're my _partner_ now. We don't serve ourselves; we serve the Guild and the Clans. So I'm going to clean things up with the Daumiers, and you're going to back me. Understand? I can't do it without you. That's how powerful you are."

His pupils widened and his scowl relaxed. "I'm gonna… back you…"

"Glad to hear it."

…..::::…..

"_Please kneel for the recital of Our Lord's Prayer."_

"I can't believe you did that!" Nate told her, his voice muffled as the congregation obeyed as one.

Head bowed, she whispered back: "Busted by the self-appointed police! Your father would be _so_ proud…"

"Knock it off! He's your brother, and you _bewitched_ him. On _today_, of all days!"

"Tell you what, Mr. Scary-Powerful-Telepath, you can erase that part of my brain if you erase the _stupid_ from _his_."

"Don't tempt me."

Remy sat in the back of the cathedral with his wife and young children. He knew they'd be bored out of the poor little minds, and brought homework for them to do. Given the choice between chores or patience, they sat as quietly as possible for as long as possible. Then they pulled out their pencils and worksheets and solved math problems or worked on language translations. Through it all, Honor and Hero sat attentively. Periodically, Nate would turn to Honor and whisper something frantically. Poor kid had never been to a Catholic Mass before; didn't understand that this ceremony was a massive waste of time.

Eventually, Mercy rescued the twins from their misery. She brought two puzzle boxes, which kept them content and quiet.

The box was specifically a Thief toy, used to train children how to master locks and sharpen their memory skills. By the time Remy joined the Thieves Guild, he was already too old for such tools, but Henri gave him one anyway. When Luc lost his temper over Remy's slow progress, conquering the box always encouraged him.

A resounding "Amen!" ended the formalities and released the masses.

…:::…

_The Savage Land_

The chief returned to mayhem. The conquered warriors had been released and murdered their guards. Worse still, all the women and children were missing. Before he had time to search, the messiah child approached him.

"Not very nice, is it? To be betrayed."

"_Why would you do this?!"_ He was too angry to be afraid.

Before the wicked boy with snow skin and night eyes answered, a great thunder and wind arose. Colored lights flashed in the storm, and through the confusion, the chief saw the silhouettes of children vanish into a giant metal bird. The prophet and messiah had left in a similar contraption never to return. He would not lose his children, too!

He raced towards the lights and called for the children, but as in dreams, he was not fast or loud enough. The giant trap sealed shut and lifted away. His heart ripped open with grief.

Surrounded by the enemy, he was still able to search out his people. The men were slaughtered – all slaughtered. How much blood could be spilt? At last, he found the Hezbaki women. They had died huddled together, their bodies the final fortress to protect his wife. As he pushed them aside, he hoped to find her alive at the bottom. But one corpse hid only another. At the center of the massacre, still warm, lay Priestess Wife. Her loving hands had been her final defense and bore the worst damage, but a clean cut across the neck had taken her life. Warm, brown eyes filled with hope and laughter were peeled open to reflect a terror she'd never known in life. How alone she must've been in her last moments. Had she watched the horizon, awaiting his rescue? Had she given her last breath to tell First Son to flee? To beg for her life?

The wicked boy approached and spoke coldly. "You're a very _simple_ man, Caradoc. I wouldn't expect you to comprehend the scope of my designs. But take comfort in knowing that the future of your tribe will be preserved. You see, their _genetic potential_ – pardon me, you don't know what that means. Well, they're very important. I might have spared your woman, too, but you took my slave from me. I felt compelled to return to favor."

It was true. As Laska died afraid and alone, Caradoc had been busy setting Ethan free. The outlander claimed exclusive access to the true messiah, and unlikely as it was, he had no choice but to hope it was true. The outlander promised to return with him in exchange for life. Caradoc agreed, but how could this wicked child have known? He'd told no one, not even his wife.

"I will no more bend a knee to you," Caradoc hissed, paralyzed by grief. "If you mean to kill me… be quick with it."

"Stop being so melodramatic," it sighed. "You'll all be dead soon enough."

….::::….

_New Orleans_

In the throngs of eager party-goers lurked a shark. His golden, hawk-like eyes scanned the herds, picking over candidates for his next strike, but his serpent tongue kept them docile until they were ensnared. Like René Boudreaux, he had the support of a great family. His very presence was the result of infinite plots, and his actions would either propel those schemes into fruition or shatter them.

Vaughn didn't believe in fate.

He believed in hard work and ruthless ambition, but Honor would think it was preordained that Vaughn achieved his Master's mark the same time that her brother was getting married. No; he'd timed this perfectly.

Becoming a Master Thief was the only way he'd ever catch her eye, and this was the only time she'd ever consider marriage. His uncle on the Council made sure she was feeling the pressure to keep par with her brother.

She'd never know about the sleepless nights and days pouring over French and Spanish texts, trying to pound the languages into his brain. She would never know how his uncle had groomed him: teaching him how to speak and behave and look – as if he were a wild animal unfit for human society. She would never learn about the subtle manipulations – the bribes, the threats, the favors – that had earned him a place in Beaumont, then Dallas, and finally back into the New Orleans Guild.

He had many motivations, but _she_ was always the goal.

It began as revenge. He wanted to make her family suffer for using and abandoning his father. Franco's brief reign as the Thieves Patriarch destroyed his marriage, killed his oldest son, drove his ex-wife to madness, and threw Vaughn into disgrace. He was so full of hate that he sold his soul to Satan, but when Honor vanished, the Guilds imploded. The LeBeaus and Boudreauxes had been holding up the sky for generations. No one else could do it. He prayed that Honor would return so he could earn his redemption.

Surprisingly, God answered his prayers, too.

With his salvation granted, Honor turned into a game. She was so beautiful and untouchable: everyone wanted to seduce her. Her dark eyes and deadly curves enflamed his sexual appetite, haunting his dreams even while others frequented his bed. Her family was too powerful to settle for clan Daumier, but earning her favor could reclaim some of their lost glory and fortune. If he remained a secret consort, he might retain more power than her legal spouse. Meanwhile, he'd be free to advance in Dallas and marry into another city's Guild.

That scheme was quickly scratched.

When they were fifteen, Bella Donna tried casting a love spell on her own daughter to make her love that idiot fiancé of hers. She left the execution of the spell in the hands of her idiot son, and he ended up tying Honor's heart to Vaughn instead. It didn't take long to realize they were under the influence of a love spell, which Belle broke. For a time, Honor was cold towards him, but she was only trying to discourage him. She thought his affection was only the result of a now-broken spell, but he was determined to prove himself true.

He would have Honor or nothing.

When he arrived at the Boudreaux wedding, the planation was in full celebratory swing. The reception was due to begin at dusk, but weddings tended to run late and the guests arrived early to enjoy the free food and drinks. The place was packed: mostly with Guild members from New Orleans or neighboring cities, family members, Council members, and of course, a few personal friends.

Vaughn arrived with his Uncle Frederick and cousin, Clayton, but quickly left them to their social circles. If he was going to attract Honor (and he _couldn't_ seek her out), he would have to abandon the stigma of his clan. He found a small group of rather sad-looking but pretty young ladies and made sport out of charming them. More pretty bees flocked to his honey eyes, but not the one he wanted. He would hate to come and leave without speaking to her, but his uncle was very certain.

_She must come to you._

Twilight brought out the crickets and a few stars, and Vaughn led his new disciples to one of the round, white tables with white, wooden chairs near the water.

He made a point of avoiding the band near the dance floor for two reasons. He couldn't dance, and Honor wouldn't stop dancing. He forced himself _not_ to watch her, certain she was vying for his attention. He felt as though they were the only two in the world, and a great force was pushing them together. It required all his effort not to give in. Of course, she, too, had orders to follow. Ever the faithful sister, she remained in her brother's sight.

He tried arguing to himself that her loyalty was a virtue, but he knew she'd been brainwashed. The rebellious girl he'd fallen for was no more. Her mind had tipped in favor of pleasing others: her family, in particular. She must've realized that her brother had stolen her birthright and submitted herself to his goodwill. Vaughn couldn't blame her for playing politics without blaming himself. There was a time when he was no man's pawn; now, he was his uncle's puppet.

Sickened by the whole thing, he was about to leave when she finally came.

"Vaughn! Hey, where you goin' so fast?" She forced her way through his fortress of female admirers and embraced him.

She was as vivacious as he remembered. In the moon light, the red in her eyes lit up like a cat's, and her smile pierced through the darkness. She towered over the other girls, both in body and soul. They resented her full breasts, her strawberry blond curls, and the way she spoke with such carefree conviction. She was an Amazonian – strong and glorious – and she was wrapped around his neck.

His knees buckled and his blood burned. How easy it'd be to slide his hands up her dress…

"Hey, LeBeau," he tried to sound careless. Her body felt warmer than usual.

"Huge congrats on the Master mark," she said with a true smile. She pulled away and he noticed the other girls were very unhappy with her. "I wanted to throw you a party, but my parents didn't think that'd be appropriate. And… doesn't look like parties are really your thing, anyway…"

He smothered the big, stupid grin he felt, and instead offered an even smile. "Congrats on y' brother's weddin'. Y' momma's, too. Been a busy year for y'all, _non_?"

An unspoken sorrow in her eyes confirmed that it had _not_ been a good year for her.

"So what now?" she asked. "Making Master at eighteen doesn't leave a lot of room to grow."

"_Mais_, t'night I'm headin' back t' Dallas."

"Tonight?"

This was a pivotal moment. He knew he could push her away, and she might or might not pursue him. He could throw himself at her feet and she might or might not pick him up. Or he could let her know he cared, and she could do the same.

"Want me t' stay, chere?" he asked.

"Walk with me," she said, cheerfully dismissing the others. She took his arm and led him towards the placid lake, where couples and groups quietly meandered. "You're not an idiot, Vaughn, you must know how hard things are for me right now."

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Where's de girl who mutinied against de Councils and single-handedly merged two conflictin' Guilds? T'ink she can't handle a _sister-in-law?"_

"She learned to care," she smiled bitterly. "Therein lies my weakness… With Momma on the outside and Papa in California, I could really use a friend in New Orleans. Pathetic as it is, you're the only one I trust anymore."

_Trust_. She really knew how to cut to the quick.

"Much as I should be twistin' dat trust, y' bein' paranoid. De Guild loves you."

"Thank you. You're a good friend and a good man. That's not something I discard as easily as I used to…" She'd led them to an isolated spot just over a slight hill. He could hear the party in the distance and smell her perfume on the wind. All his senses seemed stronger. When she stopped and faced him, he could detect speckles of orange in her eyes.

"I know your life's in Texas," her voice was husky, "but if you can find a reason to stay, I'll make it worth your wild."

He was light-headed. "I… I'll need a job… De Council won't let me in wit'out a reason."

"I'll give you a job. Marry me."

He was stunned and a little disappointed; she was joking. Well, he could jest, too.

"I ain't gonna be your boy toy, che-"

She pulled him close and pressed her lips softly against his mouth. He'd kissed her before, but never like he'd wanted to. And she'd never kissed him back, not like this. He forced his tongue into her mouth and his fingers into her hair, leaving a visible mark of passion. She denied him nothing; not this time. With a bulge in his pants and lipstick smeared across her face, they quickly made their way to her bedroom. No one saw them; not close enough to see the evidence, anyway. Upstairs, she locked the door and he drew the curtains. There was a mad frenzy between them: half-wanting to return to the party to conceal their rendezvous, half-wanting to stay hidden away. He'd dreamed of her for so long that he was torn between ravishing and memorizing her.

She set the pace, shamelessly stripping away their cloth barriers: his rented suit and her couture gown. Once nude, she confessed that her experience with men was rather limited. He'd guessed as much and wasn't deterred. There was plenty of time to teach her what he liked, but this time, he'd show her what he could do. At first, she was frustrated, just lying still and getting all the attention, but that quickly changed. Soon, she was weeping for him, afraid he would never take her, but he needed her satisfied. Between the smell of her sex, her delicious curves, and the threat of her brother breaking the door and cutting his throat, Vaughn wouldn't last long.

"_Merde_!" He whispered, pulling back as she pulled him closer. "'On… I don' have a condom."

"I can't get pregnant," she said, hooking her legs around his waist.

Abandoning all care, he plunged home. As they finally came together, he felt a warm tingling in his spine that spread throughout his marrow, in his teeth and down to his toes. The sensation came back up to his belly, where it coiled like a snake ready to strike. He tried to move slowly and buy his time, but she dug her nails into his ass and bucked up, taking what she wanted. He could feel the tension pressed against his shaft and pulled away. Impatiently, she flipped him over and forced him deeper and deeper. He closed his eyes, bit his lip, and begged her to slow down.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," she whispered, still pounding away.

That was it. Panicked, he pulled her close and off his shaft, spilling his seed on her thighs and sheets.

"Sorry," he sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

She stayed on him, curled up like a giant cat and equally content. Was she as stunned as he was? The whole thing happened so quickly that it seemed surreal. Any moment now, he'd wake…

She kissed his nose, rolled off the bed, and started cleaning with a discarded towel. "Please don't say anything," she said. "Not tonight. It's René's day… We can make an announcement later, okay?"

His heart sank. This wasn't how he imagined their afterglow. Grabbing her hair, he asked, "This is _real_, ain't it?"

"Vaughn, this is the _only_ thing that's real. Once the Guild finds out, it'll be out of our control. Enjoy it while you can."

They dressed and tried to sneak back into the reception, but they'd been missed and it wasn't hard to guess why they'd disappeared. Between sidelong glares and sly smiles, it was obvious that the only people who didn't know were the ones who didn't _want_ to know.

….::::….

_Munich, Germany_

Tessa assumed that her training had prepared her to handle a European night club. The strobe lights, bone-jarring bass, and sea of flesh didn't overwhelm her. It was the _thoughts_ – all the desires and fears – pulling at her mind, begging for her intervention that drove her mad.

_If she bends over in that skirt-_

_Why doesn't he call?_

_Just wanted to have a good time. Don't-_

_I'll die if I don't get-_

Then, in the flood of yearnings, one woman stood void. She didn't appear any different: slightly bored, barely dressed, and waiting impatiently at the bar. But she didn't project any thoughts or feelings at all, which gave her away.

Tess approached coolly and said: "Glad you got my invitation. Can I buy you a drink?"

"_Sorry_," the woman replied in German, "_I don't speak English_."

She made another attempt but the woman was already leaving. In desperation, she grabbed the woman's arm and put a photograph on the narrow bar, damp from condensation and spilled liquor. The woman didn't spare a glance.

"If he leaves here tonight, she will die. I need your-"

She shoved Tess away and vanished into the crowd.

The bouncers eyed her impatiently. No point in drawing any more attention to herself. Crossing her arms, she scanned the crowds. The target was on floor level. Sinister, disguised as Essex, was surrounded by party-goers – girls he would later seduce. Once trapped in his base, he would dissect them while still alive and dump their bodies when he was finished. She'd been following the trail and somehow, he always managed to elude her.

His eyes met Tess's and there was the barest hint of recognition.

She drew two Tek-9s from her underarm holsters and opened fire on the man. Time slowed. Working against it was like running in sand, but she forced her suddenly heavy boots forward. The shell rounds discharged sluggishly. At first, no one noticed above the music and disorienting lights, but then, slowly, panic ensued, and everyone surged towards her. Meanwhile, the man dove behind his first human shield, and then the next. Tess fired on them, cutting through their flesh and missing him by inches. The crowd tried to move away from her, but was forced forward by those at the rear. She forced on until his power evaporated and time corrected itself.

Now she ran full speed, cornered him between brick and bodies, and cut him down with biting steel. His flesh failed him. His sleek, black hair shed all at once, and his milky skin melted into grey, heavily lined flesh with long, pointed ears and small teeth.

A Warskull!

The indifferent woman at the bar finally looked at the photograph. It was an old picture of Rogue.

Stunned, Tess re-sheathed her weapons and turned to escape, but Mystique was blocking her path. A blue fist collided with Tess's jaw, and then the older woman was on top of her. She morphed into the young, angry version of her daughter from Tess's picture.

"I don't enjoy being toyed with!"

Using Rogue's absorption powers, Mystique ripped through Tess's psyche.

This memory was precious; heavily protected. Mystique robbed the girl of her strength and then ripped down the wall around it, unleashing a torrent of memories. _Nighttime in Manhattan. Honor was in her arms, in her bed. All was right. Warm. Lovely. Then the groaning began – low and miserable – rising from her sleep. Tess slipped into her mind and watched the vision unfold: a phoenix rising from the ashes, reigning death over the X-Men. Lovers were torn apart, burst into flames, or spilled out of hospital beds. Only one interested Mystique: Rogue dying on the altar of progress. Destiny's dream, decades later. In a desperate gambit, Tess stole the memory of the dream. She would stop this prophecy with ruthless pragmatism; Honor was too emotional. But in Germany, she discovered many of her old friends missing. The circle was closing. Time was running out._

..::::…

To Be Continued…


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the X-Men.

**LeBeau Legacy: The End  
Chapter Four: Savage Land Secrets  
**"I started my life with a single absolute: that the world was mine to shape in the image of my highest values and never to be given up to a lesser standard, no matter how long or hard the struggle."  
~Ayn Rand

_New Orleans_

The kids were in heaven. Hero eagerly shared her new swing set, so the twins were at the Boudreaux's most days. When it rained, they shared Becca's holographic architect kit. Honor bused them back and forth, making good on her promise to fill the nights with slumber parties. She'd stay for breakfast, but then she was gone again. It was obvious to Remy that she was in love… _Again_. She did nothing to conceal the love marks on her neck and showered before coming home, but if she thought she was keeping a secret, he'd play along.

He was falling in love, too. Anna was happier than she'd been in years, and her revived passion breathed new life into the family. It was obvious to him now that he'd made a mistake moving them to Valle Soleada. She had _missed_ Belle and her children. The two women were rarely separated now, often bumping hips in the kitchen or herding the children together. Whenever Anna quietly asked Belle how she felt, the conversation turned hostile, and Anna dropped the topic.

She made friends among the Guilds, too. Mercy and the Daumiers were eager to coax her, and soon after, Marie's family paid a visit. Council members were never far away, all gently probing for special favors. The attention made Remy nervous. These people knew things about him that he wanted to forget, and they were surely setting her up to fail. Inevitably, her new found power would conflict Belle's fading control.

But Anna executed her new responsibilities with grace. She refused to make promises or hear tales of Remy's sordid past or side against Belle.

This newly confident woman drove him wild. When they were alone, he couldn't get enough of her. No matter how often he wanted her, she was always willing to give more. They were like newlyweds… Except this time, she wasn't pregnant and he wasn't stranded on Muir Island with his traumatized daughter… Small wonder she had strayed; she'd always been last. Someone always needed him _more_.

But New Orleans had changed them. All the little betrayals that had eaten away at their lives where smothered in this new foundation. He was determined to keep things this way. He loved Anna more than his own life and never wanted her to doubt it.

Of course, the good times couldn't last forever.

Honor's secret lover was revealed, and Belle's famous temper exploded. The aftermath left her bedridden, and Honor, blaming herself for her mother's "sudden illness", broke things off with Vaughn. Stung, the Daumier clan stonewalled, which cost Anna a new-found friend in Mercy. Worse still, Belle's new husband was keeping the kids apart, saying Belle needed peace and quiet and Hero should be at home. The Guild fed on the gossip frenzy like sharks on bleeding fish, and Remy's only impulse was to flee.

Time was running out for Belle, but he was out of leads.

There was no better time to recruit Honor.

Setting aside his reservations about pre-cognition, he asked her to see Sinister's actions. The results were disappointing. He was still alive, but she could see nothing more. This part of her mutant abilities had driven her to madness several times already, so she'd crippled it. Attempting to summon this strength again was like trying to move a dead limb. Luckily, Nate was still in town and used his telepathy to breathe new life into old habits.

At first, she giggled as a tingling sensation bubbled up her nose. Then, it struck, and she had a full-blown seizure.

_The Phoenix Five watched Sinister's Underground London Base burn into ruin. Scores of clones were lost, like dandelions in a nuclear blast. Crucial vials incinerated. The system automatically attempted to reboot, only to find the hardware defective. Re-incarnated clones awoke in other's bodies with weak organs that soon burst from the strain. Single life clones yearned to death. Only one failsafe succeeded, and a plague spilled over the earth in its wake. Ethan fought as long as he could, but the plants turned to steel and cut him down with their leaves-turned-blades. His blood chanted to her: "Come and play."_

….::::….

"That was stupid, even for you, Remy," chided Anna.

"I know."

"Ah bet ya didn't even have her medicine handy, in case she had a fit. And for what? A bunch a' riddles? Or have ya forgotten how fortune tellin' works?"

At this, he bristled. "He's in the Savage Land with Ethan. On her _best day_, Irene couldn't see that! We're gonna borrow a jet from Summers and be there tomorrow night."

"It's protected territory. Ya really think Scott's gonna go for that?"

Here, Nate said: "I'll _get_ him on board, Rogue. This doesn't just concern Mister Sinister. If Gambit's right, my mom's involved in this, too."

She gave him a tortured look and then turned to her stepdaughter, quietly curled on her bed. Honor watched the wall as if looking through it. Her blood and black eyes were focused on something only she could see.

"Ah'm just gonna say what we're all thinkin'… Maybe y'all should be with your mothers right now, instead of chasin' some mastermind villain, hopin' he'll help."

"He saved her once," said Honor, eyes focusing on Anna. "He can do it again."

…:::…

_San Francisco_

The Frost-Summers house was nothing like the LeBeaus'. Emma had a taste for ugly, expensive art and modern furniture. Scott never stopped working, leaving his work tools and papers on any flat surface. The children seemed almost inferior – all their interests had been restricted to their rooms.

While Nate easily greeted his father and young siblings with wide hugs and broad smiles, Honor and Remy stood with their hands in their pockets. Finally, Emma collected the little ones for naps, and they sat at Scott's desk to discuss business.

"Honor – this is a surprise," Scott said. "How've you been?"

They evaluated each other. They were both older, but he had grey in his hair and hardened scars on his once handsome face. She was in the prime of her youth.

"Fine, thank you," she replied dryly. "And you?"

"Good. Thanks."

An awkward silence descended.

"Well, it's been nice catching up with you," said Scott impatiently, "Let's cut to the chase. What do you need?"

The LeBeaus shared a look and Remy said, "A jet."

"Sure, why didn't you just ask?" He said. "Keys are by the door."

"Dad…" Nate leaned forward in his chair, "It's mom…"

Scott visibly tensed.

"When you destroyed Sinister's systems," Nate continued, "his clones were affected, too. They've been dying off, one by one. Mom hasn't said anything yet, but since we all know she was his crowning achievement for a Jean look-a-like-"

"Don't say that," Scott argued, "She's nothing like Jean."

"No, mom _wanted_ to marry you. She wouldn't have given _Wolverine_ the time of day!"

"I'm sorry, Nathan, that's not what I meant. When I look at them, I don't see the other… But she is a clone, which means she's in danger."

Honor said: "He's hiding in the Savage Land, but no one gets in unless they have something like a jet with camouflage. That's why we're here."

Scott slumped slightly under the burden. "I can't leave. My daughters are due any day."

"You know I can pilot," said Nate, "And Honor's a _psychic_. She's a quick learner."

"It's not the _Blackbird_ I'm worried about, son."

...:::...

_Dark Beast's Laboratory  
Rome_

Shrieks greeted him at the threshold. He sighed with disappointment – he'd hoped to enjoy his sweet treats in silence – and began the leisurely stroll down the staircase. The darkness didn't bother his sight, but light sent her into hysterics. For both their sake's, he'd obligingly kept her in the dark. Did she appreciate it? Was she even _capable_ of the concept?

He popped another Twinkie into his mouth, sucked the last crumbs from his massive blue claws, and resumed testing.

"Subject X-30, day 16. Distress continues."

The other subjects moaned in their dark cells around him. It didn't take much to set them off, and today's vivisection left them especially sensitive.

"Computer, disregard background noise." Then, he grumbled to himself, "Bad enough listening to it once… Well, my tender dumpling," he smiled at X-30, "Where were we?"

He'd left her open on the table: her organs held up well, as expected. At first, she rebelled against the pain and helplessness. Her instincts were to escape. That hope had been terminated. Now she longed for death; he could see the resignation in her eyes. When this happened, the subjects never lasted much longer. Is that why they were all dying? Sadness? No, it wasn't possible. Nor was it like Sinister to give him creations the power to self-destruction, but it was happening.

"You…" it hissed, "You're… next…"

This happened. Sometimes it was a scare tactic and sometimes the subjects lost their grip on reality, but he'd learned to disregard their threats. He continued the incision down her abdomen and exposed her large intestines.

"Tasty… dumplings…"

"Not what _I'd_ chose for my final words," the shadows said.

Dark Beast jumped so violently that he nearly sliced open his finger. The dim lights and group moaning had dulled his senses to any clues of an interloper. He spun around to see Mystique slip from the darkness.

"Mystique! Thank heavens. I was _momentarily_ concerned…" He returned to his work. "How can the good doctor help?"

"I see you're busy, so I won't keep you long. I want _Sinister_."

He froze. "What of him?"

"I don't have to ask nicely, McCoy."

He set down his scalpel. "Thank you for your forthrightness, dearest. Despite my efforts, I obviously left a trail for you to follow. Your presence means the X-Men aren't far behind, but I should have enough time to cover my tracks. Before I can formulate an exit strategy, I'll need to dispose of my subjects, which your company prevents, so let us speak post haste."

"Let's."

"Sinister is _dead_. Some tiny spark continues to distress the world, no doubt hidden in one of his numerous creations. A fertilized egg, a buried telepathic switch, or perhaps his DNA's been hidden in a tooth root and is slowly assimilating the surrounding tissue. I have accepted the tedious and _thankless_ task of searching him out."

"Such a faithful disciple."

"I mean to destroy him!" he hissed, the black fur on his neck standing on end. "He deemed my Morlocks inferior! _Genetic dead-ends!_ And to prove it, he sent his _own_ creations to terminate them! Do you know what it takes, to breathe life from nothing?! He didn't understand, it was his _gift_!"

"They weren't _all_ his creations. Gambit went, too."

"Ironic, isn't it? He was incapable of fathering children but created so much life! He spent centuries running from death. _That's_ his mutation, beneath all his other talents. The devil _can't die_."

Subject X-30 was not so lucky, and during his tantrum, had silently slipped into oblivion. Her unfocused blue eyes watched Mystique, and Mystique watched back, wondering what lay beyond the abyss.

How could she kill a man who couldn't die?

"You, on the other hand," the Dark Beast continued, "Age very slowly, but move inevitably towards death."

Before he could plunge the scalpel between her ribs, three shots struck him from behind. The rounds tore through his spinal cord and stomach. Later, he would recall hearing an automatic weapon – perhaps a Tek 9 – but his immediate issue was survival. He stepped towards Mystique and collapsed.

She calmly walked away with her mysterious accomplice.

Blood flooded out as he drug his massive, furry body towards the regenerative chamber. His peripheral vision was fading. Stomach wounds could quickly turn fatal; time was not his friend. With his last surge of strength, he pulled himself into the transparent tube. He would have to stand, for the device didn't allow for him to sit or lay. Time and again he attempted and failed to rise to his feet. He was too close, damnit! Salvation was in his grasp, if only he could master his body! Trembling, he clawed upward.

Then he heard the gates open. Two dozen subjects stepped from their cells. He could almost smell them following his blood trail.

He managed to close the chamber door, but there was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go. The wounds in his back and belly healed moments before the mob ripped them open and strung his entrails across the lab. His still-beating heart was torn apart by teeth and nails. As the Dark Beast was cannibalized by mad science, he saw the silhouette of himself patiently waiting to collect his remains to stitch them back together. Like Sinister, he would never truly die.

….::::….

_Over Canada_

"Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?" Honor asked as the vast Canadian wilderness hurried beneath them.

Gambit was resting on a cot nearby; all the recent flying left him weary.

"My hometown's not so different, really," Nate answered quietly.

He'd taught Honor how to pilot, and as he'd expected, she was a quick study. It felt strange to be left alone with Honor, and without a task to distract him, he found himself unsure of how to behave. He nodded to Gambit and quietly asked: "Is he alright?"

"Jet lag," she whispered, and then invited him into her mind for a telepathic conversation. _'I shouldn't be telling you this, but… My father has children in the Savage Land.'_

His eyes widened. _'So when you guys disappeared and no one knew where you were, and you conveniently forgot-?'_

'_Rogue __**can't**__ find out. No one can.'_

'_Is that why Sinister's there?'_

….::::….

_Hezbaki Plateau  
The Savage Land_

The Yolahn were a war-loving people. They wanted to see him suffer: this great chief from on-high. Caradoc hadn't laid eyes on the false messiah since his betrayal, although he had no doubt where he was – tracking Ethan. Caradoc begged the gods to protect the man who tried to murder his wife, and to kill the one who succeeded. He begged them to give his children strength and guide them towards safety, wherever they would be safe. Certainly, they weren't safe with him. What a cursed day he'd been born! He survived his first brutal, bloody experience only to fail at every other.

Not for much longer.

The Yolahn threw him into mock-combat with other conquered warriors. If they thought he would passively lay down his life, then he quickly corrected them. He was Caradoc, son of Caranbold, champion of the Prophet Ah-nar, chief of the Hezbaki! He would soak the earth with the blood of his enemies and then chase them through the afterlife!

With a blunt-end spear, he impaled his first attacker. The pole shattered and he swung the splintered beam at the next attacker's face. Stealing the dead man's wooden sword, he swung wildly, and one man stumbled over the crawling solider with bloody pulp for a face. Caradoc kicked out the knee of another and brought the toy sword down across his skull, cleaving flesh from bone. The fallen man cried for mercy. Caradoc chased the coward, sword lifted high, when silent thunder struck his chest. Looking down, he saw an arrow lodged in his chest. His body was bloodied and open with wounds he didn't feel. Animals fought this way, without pain or fear. Had his grief driven him to this place? Or was this a gift from the gods; a penance for all his misfortunes?

Yolahnian archers aimed at him once more, paused, and lowered their bows.

He stumbled towards them, shouting incoherently. All he could hear was the pounding of blood, filling his mouth and eyes. A gush of cool, powerful wind swept over him and the archers fled.

Turning, he watched a giant metallic bird descend. Trees and bush bowed to its great power. The others ran, frightened, but Caradoc smiled. The prophet Ah-nar and the messiah departed in such a device years ago and now returned in it. They helped carry him inside.

Ah-nar's presence was a blessing, and her strong, gentle arms were a comfort. She had literally plucked him from his suffering and lifted him above it. Perhaps his birth star had not been cruel after all, but had merely saved all his luck for the end.

"You escort me into the afterlife…" he said, "There is no greater honor."

Honor burst into tears and held her hands to his wound. The blood pulsed softly; his face was deadly pale. He was too far gone.

"What happened?" she asked.

She was answered by her own mutation, which flashed quickly like someone else's memory.

_Ethan and Sarah reached the Hezbaki Plateau in a godly fashion. They bore a boy child with the eyes of the messiah, and for a time, the Hezbakis were delighted. But the boy turned the villagers against each other. War erupted. Weakened, the Hezbakis couldn't protect their most precious possession. The children vanished into an alien vessel, the women were slaughtered, and Ethan – beaten so badly he was barely recognizable – stumbled through rivers and brush without hope or purpose._

Caradoc watched the vision unfold in her eyes. He had his own questions; this man who had once been her husband, if only in name.

"We'll get them back," she said. "I swear. Cara – I'm so sorry. I should never have left!"

"Keep the children safe… Please. Forgive me my weakness."

"You're the greatest man I've ever known," she sobbed.

He reached for her tears, stopped, and looked at her again as if he didn't know her. Then a smile touched his face and he sighed, "Laska." His eyes held their gaze as the light behind them faded. Drowning in her own tears, she screamed with fury, still clutching the arrow in his heart.

….::::….

_Interlude  
San Francisco_

In the middle of a cool spring night, two healthy girls joined the Frost-Summers family. Everything about them was new and familiar: their delicate skin and tiny fingers; their heavy heads and weak limbs; their downy hair and dark eyes. They were held first by their birth mother before receiving the only mother they'd ever know. Emma kissed their tender foreheads and named them Lauren Elizabeth Kendall and Mallory Katherine Christiana.

….::::….

_The Savage Land_

Ethan had no destination, but he didn't dare stop. He could feel the bastard nearby. The longer he ran, the harder it became to run. It'd been two days since he'd had water; a week without food. His body was failing him, so when he heard a jet overhead, he thought his mind was failing, too.

Sinister's mind was locked into Ethan's, so he became aware of the air craft simultaneously. Sweeping through the jet, he recognized his old pets Nathan Summers and Remy LeBeau, and Remy's prodigy, who was extremely upset. This minor telepathic interference set off Nathan's alarm, and Sinister knew he had moments to act before he was exposed.

"He's here!" Nate shouted.

Suddenly, the Blackbird nose-dived into the canopy. Nate's hands moved of their own accord, driving them into the hard, unforgiving earth. He regained his free-will moments before impact, shattering branches and snapping vines against the landing gear. Then the jet moved against his orders: gears grinding and smoking in battle against two forces. It became clear which would emerge victorious, and Nate cried out: "Brace yourselves!"

Ethan watched in horror as the Blackbird crashed. Somewhere, he could feel the bastard's grip on him sliding away. He knew it had brought down the plane, but he didn't know the toll it had taken. As he raced towards his only hope of rescue, Sinister slumped and then dropped to the ground.

Among the smoking wreckage laid the Chief's bloody corpse. The others were still inside, and a man shouted: "She's bleeding!"

Nate struggled to unbuckle himself and then fell helplessly on the windshield. His instinct was to help – to _heal_ – and that's what he intended to do. Ignoring the burning in his chest, he climbed up the steep incline towards the back of the plane, where the LeBeaus were trapped. Gambit appeared unharmed, but Honor had sustained a blow to the head, was bleeding and unresponsive. Worse still, the angle of the plane was pulling her neck over her shoulder.

"We need to get her down. _Gently!"_

Gambit cradled her against his chest and shoulder, released the buckle, and allowed gravity to carry him down to the consul. Then he leapt through the left windshield, which had been shattered by Caradoc's body on impact. Nate tried not to imagine what he must look like now. Instead, he tried to escape as smoothly as Gambit. It was harder than it looked and irritated the pain in his ribs.

As they lowered her to the ground, her eyes fluttered open.

"'On?" Nate said. "Do you know who I am?"

Ethan chose this moment to stumble out of the bush.

He looked like a goblin from Nate's childhood nightmares, and his first instinct was to protect Honor. Ethan's clothes were soiled rags; his hands, blackened and boneless; his face, obscured in a wiry black beard. Only his eyes, bright as amethysts, revealed his identity. Before he spoke a word, Gambit pulled out his bo staff.

"Gambit, no! That's not Mister Sinister!"

"Where is he?" Gambit asked Ethan, staff still poised to strike.

"Sin.. ister? That wicked bastard..?"

"**Where**?!"

"I don't-"

"_Liar_!"

"No! He did this!" Ethan held up his ruined hands. "A man helped me escape! Made me _promise_ to find you, so you could _save_ them. They think you're their _god_!"

"You're too late, _mon ami._ You brought him here, and you're not leaving until he's gone."

The sound of chopping helicopter blades interrupted.

Remy told Nate: "Get her to a doctor. Whatever she sees, whatever they tell you, keep her safe."

Then he pushed Ethan back into the bush.

Honor was fully herself, but Nate made her remain still until the helicopter landed. He waved them down as a man spoke via speakerphone.

'_This is the Protection and Conservation of Supernatural Ecosystems Department. You are trespassing in a protected region. Remain where you are and we will collect you.'_

The helicopter landed and Honor was transported to a stretcher.

The pilot saw the Blackbird and sighed.

"X-Men. Should've known. Where's the rest of your crew?"

Several yards away, Ethan waved and shouted to the rescue team, hoping they'd follow. Gambit shoved him hard, desperate to shut him up.

"Come now," said a shadow, "Where's that famous Cajun charm?"

Adolescent Sinister had caught up with them, half-hidden in the brush. His bone-white face retained some roundness of youth, but his body was lanky and disproportionate. Most people were clumsy at that stage, but Sinister's ominous control was unnatural.

"Essex."

"LeBeau."

Ethan hobbled to his feet and scurried back the way he'd come.

"Strange," said Sinister, "No matter where we go, there we are."

"I'm here to make a deal."

"Naturally."

"I want you to spare two of your clones." He paused and when Sinister didn't ask, he supplied the names. "Madelyne Pryor and Bella Donna Boudreaux. Maddie's been your pawn long enough. She deserves to live out her days in peace. Belle you don't remember-"

"Oh, I remember. She betrayed me over to Apocalypse and cost me a perfect base on the moon. She's already died once and she'll die again. I know how _inspiring_ you find the weaker sex, but perhaps you should learn to survive without them."

"_Will you do it?"_

He hesitated. "There's a price."

"Naturally."

"I want your spawn by Rogue, and the children of Scott Summers and Ms. Frost."

Remy's heart stopped. He'd known the price would be high, but this seemed extraordinary, even for Sinister.

"Seems awfully unbalanced," said Remy, "'Sides, a good bit of those youngin's are 'the weaker sex'. You sure they're worth your precious time?"

"Children can be replaced tenfold with the proper breeding mare."

"Yeah, Anna ain't gonna be able to keep her hands off me after dis…"

He imagined Ollie and Becca being ripped from her cold, dead hands. He heard their cries and saw their tears. Emma was no less protective, and if her twins had been born, would they survive such trauma? Where would Sinister keep them? Who would protect them? Summers would try and fail, like he always did. However bold his reaction; the results would be the same: dead wives and damaged children. _This_ was the time to act.

Sinister crossed his arms and held firm. "Do we have a _deal_, Remy?"

….::::….

_New Orleans_

Belle watched Hero brush her teeth and then helped her change into her pink cotton pajamas. This wasn't a part of her normal routine, but the cancer had made her kinder than she normally was.

Pransu understood that she always loved her children, she just chose to display that love with discipline and responsibilities. He had raised his sons the same way: it was part of their bond. Most people – like his ex-wife and Belle's ex-husband – thought the only way to show love was with gifts and servitude. But pushing a child to work and achieve made them grateful and fulfilled, which was the only _true_ way to appreciate the kinder gifts of love, like sacrifice and compassion. It didn't mean they were never kind or weak: sometimes they were.

Belle was especially weak now.

Her grandmother had been lost to the same dreadful disease, and Pransu knew she thought of Grammy every time she looked in the mirror. Her hair was feather-thin now and her body was shrunken and frail. Still, she pushed on. Partially, she did it for her children, but mostly because she didn't know how to _not_ fight. It was who she was.

No one knew except for himself and his ex-wife, Purvi. Belle swore him to secrecy, but Purv was still one of his dearest friends and shamefully, he couldn't bear the burden alone. He suspected she'd confided in his parents as well; they'd all been uncharacteristically generous towards Belle lately, but no one had confronted the elephant in the room, so to speak.

How Belle's children hadn't discovered yet was a mystery. But Hero was too young to understand, and the other two were heavily involved in the drama of their own lives. And even if they suspected, would they actually address it?

They were still children.

When Belle tucked little Hero under the covers that night, she told her the story of her conception. Hero was only five-years-old, and there was much she didn't understand about the world. But she understood enough – Pransu wasn't her father, but neither was LeBeau. She was surrounded by all sorts of people who loved her and some of them looked like each other, but no one looked like her: not the white, black or brown ones. Sometimes she thought she was adopted like her brother René, but she looked too much like her mother. At last, she would know.

"His name was Lucas Bishop," said Belle, "and he was a lot like you, _petite_. Don't bother lookin' for him. He's a time-traveler an' a fighter. Long gone… We didn't love each other like most parents, but we wanted you even b'fore y' got here. He knew he couldn't have a family like most people, but I promised t' take care of you. De last time he seen you, y' were just a tiny little baby. He'd done somet'ing terrible, and de X-Men were gonna kill 'm. He had t' cut ties wit' everyone he knew. Risked his life t' bid adieu. Dat's how y' can trust dat he loved y'... But y' know de first time Pransu met you, he wanted t' be your papa… An' I don't t'ink anyone could ever love y' more den he does."

Hero hadn't looked at her mother the entire time she spoke. Instead, her violet eyes fixed on her own hands. Belle knew she was absorbing her words, watching her lips with her peripheral vision. Still, the fact that she wouldn't _look_ at her showed that Hero was disappointed. Belle wanted to reassure her daughter that – despite her unusual conception – she was deeply loved by everyone. Did she think her existence was less meaningful because her parents hadn't shared an epic love? Or was she saddened to know that a pivotal part of herself was lost forever? Maybe she was heart-broken to learn Pransu wasn't really her father. Belle would never know because Hero, like Bishop, kept her most sincere emotions deeply hidden.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" Belle asked and signed together, making sure Hero understood.

The girl looked at her with a completely serene face.

"_May I go to sleep now?"_ She signed.

Belle's vision blurred and her voice choked with tears. Overcome with emotion, she pulled Hero close and held her fiercely. The girl sat like a toy, neither returning her embrace nor rejecting it.

When Belle came to bed with dried tears on her sleeve, Pransu pulled her close. His body ached for more, but he rearranged so that his legs hid the erection building up behind her cool, angular bottom. She drove him mad, but she was dying. The weeks rolled into months and her body never recovered desire. He never pushed; it would've been greedy of him to take what little energy she had. But that night, she needed more.

She rolled over and kissed him softly, deeply, and little arrows of yearning shot to his groin until it was unmistakable. He undressed her, keeping her on her side so that his thrusts were shallow and easy to bear. Yes, she could hardly _endure_ it. Her body never responded the way it used to, but he tried not to take personal offense. Her limbs were bony and she tired easily, but there was a soul-deep satisfaction from their awkward lovemaking – one of them restraining and the other forcing. He had _missed_ her. Missed seeing her vulnerable and missed being weak for her. They'd never been any good with words, but here, like this, they understood each other. He understood this was good-bye. His heart ached knowing he'd never be with her again, but he would have to cherish what little time they'd had together and what little time they had left.

Hero awoke to coldness.

Normally, her mother or father called to her from the doorway, but today she woke up alone. And the house was colder than ice.

Pulling her blanket around her neck, she shuffled down the hallway to her parent's bedroom. Her father stood in the hallway smoking a cigar. Momma _never_ let him smoke in the house.

He didn't see Hero or her quilt dragging on the floor behind her, but she saw him: red eyes, underwear and cigar. She pressed on to the bedroom, intent on telling her mother he'd done something naughty, but her mother wouldn't wake. Even later, when René and Marie showed up, her mother wouldn't wake.

…

To Be Continued…

…

**Author's Note:** I hope the story thus far has been self-explanatory, and no one's had to reference 'The End' on Wikipedia for cliff notes. But for those who remember, the four children of Scott and Emma all appeared in Claremont's version. However, he never named their twin girls. I thought 'Mallory' and 'Lauren' were names Emma might approve of… The middle names come partially from family. 'Christiana' is for Emma's brother Christian, and 'Katherine' is for Scott's mother. Also, Claremont never explained how or why Mystique was disguised as the Black Beast, so hopefully I didn't suck all the juice out of that detail by providing a back-story.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the X-Men.

**The LeBeau Legacy: The End  
Chapter Five: Et tu, Brute?  
**"Life is hard. After all, it kills you."  
~Katharine Hepburn

She shook off death as easily as sleep. Memories of the White-Hot Room faded like thoughts in dreams. Power and strength and sweet, ever-abundant _life_ surged through her veins. Cosmic fire lifted her from the grasp of mere mortals who thought to contain the glory of the Phoenix!

Jean's soul beckoned across the universe.

In Connecticut, John Grey was blinded by the raw Phoenix form and swerved into on-coming traffic. She carried him to safety and left; his heart pounding wildly.

In Chicago, Rachel hid in Kitty's arms.

In San Francisco, the Frost-Summers family was disturbed twice. First, by nightmares of Jean's resurrection; and again when her father called to lecture Scott in the dead of night.

In Kenya, at last, Jean found her soul's mate. Logan took her as desperately as a breath. She gave him the stars, the sun, her fiery passion, and he didn't panic or hide or apologize to his mortal wife! No, Logan allowed her to burn and threw himself in her flames.

Others heard the cry, too.

The Shi'ar Empress Lilandra strode towards the Union Hall, cursing the terrible timing and hoping her infiltrators were prepared.

An mutant terrorist organization heard the call to war.

Sinister, desperate to move his schemes forward, accepted the aid of the Dark Beast.

….::::….

_Over Canada_

Bruised ribs.

Whip-lash.

Hands that would have to be amputated.

The prognosis seemed grim, and that was just the human element. They'd also damaged the jet. Summers would be furious, but it'd be a decent distraction. Long enough to snatch the kids? Remy wasn't sure. He pinched the bridge of his nose as his headache worsened.

"Don't touch me!" Ethan shouted at the nurse.

"Those hands are toxic. If we don't remove them-"

"_I said no!"_

"-You'll _die_! Look, I know it sounds horrible, but the prosthetic hands have come a long way. You can retain full dexterity of ten fingers."

"_Metal fingers!"_ He spat.

"One more word out of you," said Nate, "And I'll turn your brain to jelly!"

Ethan silenced, and Nate gently turned back to Honor, who was nursing a migraine. Like everyone else, she'd declined any pain-numbing drugs, so there was nothing to do but suffer. Nate pressed the back of his cold, metal fingers to her forehead while telepathically soothing her thalamus. It was a placebo effect: nothing more than tricking her brain into thinking the pain had dulled.

"Thank you," she sighed.

After a moment, she called for her father, but he ignored her. She called out again, and this time the nurse echoed: "Your daughter wants you."

"What happened out there, Pop? Did you find him?"

Remy looked the nurse deep in the eye and suggested she leave, which she did without question.

"I'm sorry about Caradoc," he said to Honor. "He was a good man. He deserved better."

She nodded, hot tears spilling from her eyes. "Laska, too. The children-" her voice caught in her throat. "Sinister sold the kids to an intergalactic slave trader. They're _babies_! I promised Cara we'd find them, keep them safe."

"How're we gonna find them?"

"I'm a _psychic_."

"A rusty one. And you ain't goin' anywhere with your neck out. 'Sides, I can't see Summers lending us another jet in a hurry."

She huffed, but he was right. If the X-Men wouldn't help (and why would they?), they'd have to steal the equipment they needed. The only other source with the required tools was S.H.I.E.L.D. That would be no small feat.

"So what happened?" Honor asked again. "Is he going to cure them?"

"Of course. Who can deny this handsome mug?" But his voice scarcely concealed a warning.

"Pop-"

Turbulence gripped the air craft and shook it mercilessly. Even Nate, an experience pilot, was frightened by this sudden change. Then, as quickly as it came, the turbulence left, and a bird-shaped shadow passed over them. A flame zipped across the cold turquoise sky.

"Was that-?" asked Remy.

"It was…" Nate answered. "The Phoenix."

…:::…

_Kisumu, Kenya_

"Goddess of Mercy, no!" Storm gasped and dropped her drink. "Logan! _Logan!_"

She was lunching by the poolside when the Phoenix flashed before her eyes. Hearing no response, she gathered her fleeting strength and hauled to her feet. The crutches supported her trembling bones as they inched across the deck.

"Ororo, time has not been kind to you."

She turned towards an old friend leaning casually in the door.

"_Yukio?!_ How is this possible? We thought you dead!"

"I've come to take what's yours, _your majesty_… Just like you took what was mine."

Furious, Storm felt stronger than she had in years. "Show your true face!"

'Yukio' pounced on Storm. They landed with a splash in the pool, Yukio on top with her hands around Storm's throat. The aluminum crutches stayed with her, offering their silent assistance. Storm gripped her assailant's hands, but could not shake them loose. She would drown. After Logan finished making love to her best friend's ghost, he would find her floating face-down in the pool, and no one would know the truth. They'd speak of her glory days at her funeral, never mentioning that she'd tripped and drown in a swimming pool, too crippled to pull herself out.

But her power was still strong. Enslaved to her fury, the water roared and tossed her out. Storm collapsed, barely able to turn her head and cough on the cement. The remaining pool water punched skyward and froze with a shape-shifting Warskull encased deep inside.

….::::….

_PACOSED  
Baffin Island Base_

"How long have you been awake? Forty-eight hours?" Nate asked Gambit. "Your motor function's declining and soon you'll start hallucinating."

"You take this doctor thing seriously, don't you?"

"Are you awake because you _won't_ sleep or because you _can't_?"

Gambit shook his head, "If you saw my dreams…" He suddenly became aware of Nate and changed subjects. "Promise you'll take care of her."

Nate laughed. Only Gambit could look at a six foot tall trained assassin and see a harmless girl.

He said, "I'll stay with her if it'll help you rest."

"_Oui_." He turned, paused, and said, "If things were different, I would've been glad t' have you in de family."

"…Thanks, Gambit, but you know she's into girls, right?"

He nodded. "Good - good night, Nate."

Nate quietly slipped into Honor's small room, where a makeshift bed had been assembled for her. Her back was to him, and slivers of snowy white skin marked her garments barriers. Lacking an occupation, he gently pulled her strawberry blond locks away from her face, careful to avoid touching her skin. He knew his metallic hands repulsed her. Beneath her hair, bruises clustered on her neck.

Would anyone notice if he gave her a few more bruises?

Suddenly, the urge to forcefully take her consumed him. She deserved it – using him the way she did. He would get away with it, too. His telepathy could keep her silent, and no one would disturb them. The desire was overwhelming. Like a ravenous beast, he couldn't see anything but her, and the universe seemed to exist only of her flesh, blood, and hair.

He knew how her eyes would plead for mercy and how her voice would scream for help. Nate hadn't been entirely absent when Apocalypse possessed his body and used it to rape her, although he'd been entirely powerless to stop it. They'd both been innocents. The violent joining that had murdered their mutual virginity left them scarred for life.

Despite their friendship, Honor found his embrace revolting. She could make love with other men, but never Nate. Everyone expected he would replicate those feelings. He knew he should've felt disgusted, so he pretended to be. Secretly, nothing aroused him more than the thought of strangling Honor. Holding her life in his hands had been an exquisite high. Dominating her body and pressing the limits of her terror had given him unparalleled pleasure.

He wasn't a rapist, but he wasn't a gentle lover, either. No one wondered why he couldn't keep a girlfriend for long. He knew why. Because every woman he took to bed was a pale imitation of his lesbian friend, and _none_ of them aroused the torment he felt just _looking_ at her.

'_Christ, I'm a monster,'_ he thought.

Guilt punched his gut and bile kicked up his throat. The urge passed as quickly as it came, and he clung to easy mantras the psychiatrists had given him.

'_I'm not a bad person, something bad happened to me. I'm not a bad person… I'm a __**healer**__.'_

He touched Honor's neck with the back of his hand and her bruises vanished. It was his gift.

If he could heal others, why couldn't he heal himself?

Still asleep, Honor groaned in distress.

Nate worried he had accidentally broadcasted his sick fantasies, and slipped into her nightmare.

_It was one of the best days of Honor's young life. She was twelve and committed to a mental institution in Scotland. Ever distrustful of doctors, her parents insisted on going with her. They hadn't been there long when Christmas came, bringing a newly-pregnant Rogue with it. All of the patients and their visiting families were outdoors; Honor and her mother were trying to teach her father how to ice skate. His sour attitude towards his failures didn't taint the day. Everyone was so happy to be together, happy for the dry weather, and happy to be alive. It was certainly the most __**carefree**__ day of her life._

_But this dream wasn't like the real thing. Here, her mother got angry and stormed off. Honor took off her skates and chased after her, getting her socks soaked. No one followed them and Momma pretended not to hear Honor calling to her. Eventually, Momma went into a dark cave lined with thorns. The briars didn't hurt, but frightened Honor just the same. She stopped and called into the cave after her mother._

_At the threshold, Bella Donna turned to face her child and shouted, "Why can't you let me go?!"_

….::::….

_New Orleans_

"Come on, sug, you've gotta eat _somethin'_," Anna gently encouraged Pransu as she might a stubborn child.

Indeed, he'd been sulking like one: neglecting his obligations and making a terrible impression on the children. Hero followed his example of mourning by withdrawing and fasting. When she tried to comfort him, he remained unresponsive, and she tried even harder. _He_ ought to be comforting _her_. Finally, Anna forced him to the dinner table, hoping some spark of life would encourage Hero.

At her urging, he poked at his food.

Hero quietly put down her fork and before Anna could say a word, Becca told her, "You have to clean your plate before you can leave the table."

Bashfully, the younger girl obeyed.

Anna smiled at her daughter and turned back to Pransu. He hadn't just forgotten about the living; he also refused to make any decisions about Belle's funeral. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Belle wanted to be buried in her family's lot with her brother and father. The problem was that Belle's original body was _already_ buried there. Spending eternity beside Pransu wasn't an option; his culture used cremation, which conflicted with Belle's Christian burial. To further complicate matters, her legal name was still Isabella LeBeau – an alias Remy had quickly snatched when Belle needed a passport to Muir Island. The newspapers refused to print her obituary under 'Bella Donna Boudreaux', and Anna was sure they'd encounter the same issue when it came time for a tombstone, too.

The battle of dinner ended in a stalemate.

As Anna cleared away the dishes, Mercy stopped by for a visit.

The plate in Anna's hands shattered into dust, but she didn't seem to realize. "You've got _some_ nerve…"

Mercy put up her hands defensively. "Be as angry as y' want. I wouldn't be here wit'out a damn good reason."

"Ah ain't stupid! You _need_ something, and Ah'm easier to manipulate than Belle ever was. Remy warned me about you, but Ah thought you were my friend!"

"We ain't _friends_, we're _family_. Bella Donna _hijacked_ my family and exiled me. She was a powerful enemy and de Daumiers offered protection; I had t' side with dem. I didn't know she was sick, but it wouldn't have changed my decision."

"No, Ah guess not. You managed to turn Belle on her own kids, and turn those kids on each other. Half the Guild blamed her for 'On dumping Vaughn. She went out _weak_ and _alone_ because of _you_! Now ya come into her home and speak ill of the dead."

"I'm sorry I – I'm sorry. I don't deserve your forgiveness. You'd be foolish t' forgive me. I was desperate and Frederick asked me to… I wasn't de only one who lied, but I'm de one who's here now."

"_Blow it out your rear!"_

"Anna, please lower your voice… De kids'll hear."

"If they do, they'll beat some manners into you, and Ah'd let 'm!"

Mercy paused, gathering her words like an arsenal. She hadn't expected Anna to be so unforgiving, nor had she intended to feel ashamed. Her actions at the time felt so justified. Now all her defenses crumbled against the accusation of disappointment, for which she had no excuse.

"Pransu and René are besides demselves wit' grief. Belle was our kin and deserves a proper funeral… De family needs y' _strength_."

Anna took a deep breath. Of course, Mercy was right. Besides, Mercy wasn't the person she was truly mad at. She was angry with Belle for being too proud to say good-bye; angry with herself for not forcing the issue; angry with Remy for not being there, and for taking Honor away; angry at the world, where greed always trumped grief. As long as she could fuel her anger, she could be strong. Her sister-in-law was an easy target, but releasing this rage left her deflated. She could _not_ be weak now.

"I want y' t' know," Mercy continued cautiously, "Dere's room in de LeBeau plot. God forbid, when Honor passes, dat's where she'll spend eternity. Dey ought to be together."

Anna nodded.

"Perfect. I'll call Luc-"

"No." Anna calmly picked up the remaining dishes. "This is a family matter. _Ah'll_ do it. Show yourself out."

….::::….

_Paris  
Chateau Shaw_

"You must've heard… I apologize if I've disappointed you."

Tess brought Mr. Shaw his glass of scotch, and at his invitation, joined him by the fire. With a brief wave, she dismissed the attendants, and found herself alone with him. His eyes fixated on the flames.

"I trust you to _do_ the job you're _paid_ to do," he said.

"The hatching of the Phoenix was an unforeseeable complication. Our plans require recalibration, but I have it on good intel that others will do the heavy lifting for us."

His eyes flashed. "Explain."

"The Shi'ar plan to exterminate the Phoenix. They're taking no chances this time. The X-Men will die with her."

"What about the shell? It must have _some_ use. Why else would the Phoenix keep using the 'shell' of Jean Grey?"

Tessa shook her head, "Destroyed. Even the dust was incinerated."

With a snarl, he hurled his glass into the fire. The liquor burst and died dramatically. She was glad for the distraction, which hid the lie on her lips.

Strumming his fingers, he said: "And you have no plans to rescue your lover?"

"It conflicts with our interests. Even if I were so inclined, I'm no match for the Shi'ar."

….::::….

_New Orleans_

"Who does dis woman think she is?!" René fumed, slamming his fist on his desk.

Tobias, Benoite, and Gregory flinched, but Marie remained seated and calm. She'd grown used to his outbursts.

"_I_ am de patriarch!" he shouted, "_I_ am her son! _I_ will decide where she rests!"

"It's a good idea," Marie answered. "Buryin' her in LeBeau's crypt… And it's popular wit' de Councils. You'll have a hard time convincin' dem t' fund a new plot of land, and y' can't afford a new plot on y' own. Do y' _know_ what land in N'awlins costs?"

"You too, Brutus?" he seethed.

"You don't have enough authority to challenge de Council – not alone. And if you appear petty now, dey will never support you later." She crossed the room and rubbed his shoulders, which clearly irritated him. "Y' grievin', my love. Trust my judgment."

"Everyone wants t' use me!" he shouted, exploding from her grasp and storming from the Assassin's small meeting room.

Marie put on a brave face and excused his behavior to their friends.

The trio shuffled as if the room was too warm, and Benoite finally spoke: "I t'ink he needs to know about de rumors…"

"What is it, now?" asked Marie.

"De Guilds are afraid. Dey say René is too inexperienced-"

"How _else_ do dey slander their patriarch?"

Benoite looked fearfully to Tobias, who elaborated: "As she said, dey're afraid, and in fear, believe nearly anyt'ing… De very worst says Bella Donna never wanted him t' rule, but played him as a puppet. Honor avoids N'awlins now because she's plannin' a coup… Just a rumor, I'm sure. I'd hate for him t' act on it-"

"Y'all know better."

"Den where is she?" asked Gregory. When Marie didn't answer, he said: "I've heard she's in Dallas, where she's already married Vaughn. That they're pullin' connections all over the South. When she comes back, it'll be a bloodless overthrow. She isn't even _here_ and the Guild wants t' follow her! Because what nobody wants to tell you – but everyone believes – is that your husband stole his sister's crown and killed his mother."

….::::….

_Coy Manh Rehabilitation Center  
New York_

"Mr. Fong? Mr. Fong. _Ethan_!"

"I told you, my name is _Stryfe_," he corrected the nurse without sparing her a glance. Fore finger to thumb, middle finger to thumb, ring finger… ring finger wouldn't move.

"There's a man here who says he knows you," the nurse prattled. "Says his name is Genesis. Should I show him in or call security?"

Genesis? Impossible. Stryfe had killed Genesis on the night Sarah gave birth. If he'd somehow survived, he wouldn't politely ask a nurse for permission to enter.

Stryfe masked his emotions with a curt nod that could've meant anything.

She sighed and left irritably.

A moment later, a young man with lanky blond hair arrived. It _was_ Genesis! He stood, perhaps waiting for an apology or explanation.

Indifferently, Ethan returned to his exercises. Ring finger. _Ring finger._

"Stryfe? Do I look familiar?"

"_Should you?"_

Ethan's metallic ring finger strained until it trembled but never moved.

"What happened to your hands? I bet the X-Men were involved."

Ethan watched Genesis, sizing him up. Why didn't he kill him and get it done with?

"I joined you because of _them_. They killed my sister and called it 'collateral damage'. All the problems mutants have now are because of _them_. I was ready to sacrifice myself to balance the scales."

"So have at it, kid."

He leaned in and whispered, "The movement still lives. We're going to hit them where it hurts. In two days, the X-Men will be a memory. _Join us_."

"Who are you?"

"We're an underground sect, devoted to creating a society where the superior race doesn't _cater_ to _baselines_. This is God's will. Every mutant _knows_ this, and _yearns_ for it. Baselines aren't powerful enough to control us themselves, that's why they created the X-Men. We must annihilate this _leash_ imposed by the old world." Genesis's eyes never left Stryfe. Through his speech, the outside world muted, lifting them above the hostile earth. "They keep the young together. If we can destroy their future recruits, our victory would be great. You ate from that trough, you know where they sleep. Will you be the key to our liberation?"

….::::….

_New Orleans_

Half the city attended the funeral, candles in hand to the cemetery and handkerchiefs on the way out. Anna recalled only images of the day: the children in black, struggling in her heels down the broken roads, the name 'Belle LeBeau' freshly engraved, and the mass of endless faces watching her family. They could appear unified when the occasion called for it. In the end, they'd all made the event – Belle's former in-laws, her current in-laws and widowed husband, her feuding children, her dearest friends, and most bitter rivals.

Once the tragedy ended, so would the community.

Like pawns on a chess board, her children stood at the forefront. The two eldest held hands and passed little Hero between them like a precious burden. When the casket appeared, Hero made a sudden movement, as if she meant to chase it down. Honor and René openly wept on each other's shoulders while everyone watched like sadistic spectators. Only Anna dared to comfort them.

As she cradled two weeping pillars, Anna's eyes fell into Belle's grave: dark and hungry. The ugly gape would devour them all. Above them, life burned on with poignant resiliency, but the waiting grave had marked her. She felt death at her heels.

'_I'd never leave my kids!'_ she rallied against this premonition.

As if she had a choice.

At the wake, Emma finally arrived, and Anna felt the sun had finally broken through. Icy blue eyes searched out that signature tuff of white hair and rushed to her.

"Rogue! I'm so sorry I'm late!"

Anna embraced her hard, feeling their hearts beat against each other as Belle's never would again.

"Thanks for comin' on such short notice. Where are Scott and the kids? Did you bring the twins?"

"Oh, he's off after that damn ex-wife of his. And the kids are with me, but I hired a nanny. _You_ need me more today." She gripped Anna's hand in hers. "How are you?"

Anna could only shake her head.

"It's _bad_? I wouldn't know. Scott and I made love on Jean's grave."

Anna laughed and wiped away tears. "Honor and Belle were fightin'… Ah know that's gonna weigh on her. But Nate said she had a dream, after Belle died, she came t' her and said she needed to let go. He was with her, when she found out. He's been so much help…"

"Gambit wasn't there?"

"Some governmental big-wigs tried detainin' him, so he stole a plane," she rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Ah found 'm watchin' the kids sleep; he said the Phoenix scared him…"

"And Renegade? Hero?"

"They don't talk to me much… But Becca and Ollie have been askin' me a lot of questions about death and the afterlife. Ah don't know what to tell them… But Jean's back. Is that-?"

"Maybe she can tell them all about it, but I _refuse_ to hear that woman's name again. Where are they?"

"Remy took them out for a bit. He didn't think all this grief was good for them."

"But look! Here comes Gambit now!" Emma slipped fake warmth into her voice.

"Frosty," he acknowledged. "Miss me, chere?"

He leaned over to kiss Anna and she wrapped her arms around his neck. In a flash, she went from gentle and affectionate to hardened combatant. She gripped his head, yanking it down between her shoulders. Her knee rose up and struck his chin hard enough to crack his teeth.

"Anna! What the hell?!" shouted Emma.

Anna tackled him from behind, grabbed his head again, and snapped his neck. Around them, people screamed and panicked.

Emma remained frozen to the spot.

"My Momma was a shape-shifter," said Anna. "Takes more than _that_ to fool me."

'Gambit' melted into a grey, shriveled elf with round, solid black eyes.

Emma put a hand to her heart. "His mind was a flawless copy! How'd _you_ know?"

"More important, why would the Warskulls copy Remy, and where is _he_?"

Anna realized Honor stood across the room, pale fingers pressed to pale lips. Sickened, she wondered how much her stepdaughter had seen, but there was no time for reassurances. Gambit was in immediate danger, and he had Becca and Ollie with him. Anna couldn't leave quickly enough. She asked Nate to keep Honor safe and at home, to which he replied: "Why does everyone think she needs _me_?"

Emma insisted on helping Anna, and since she couldn't waste more time, Anna cradled her friend and launched into the sky. The streets below blurred and gave way to green. Anna slowed and landed in an old neighborhood occupied by an army of oak trees. The LeBeau residence retained the antebellum grace from its birth, and under different circumstances, Emma would have been impressed. But beneath its antique walls, most of the interior had recently been destroyed in a fight. A fire, intended to conceal evidence, had burned itself out, and there were no signs of Gambit or the twins. Every shattered picture frame and blackened piece of furniture struck at Emma's heart.

"Anna, my babies! I have to get to them!"

They launched away again. Emma felt like she could've flown on her own fear and rage, but those emotions flooded coldly into her bowels when they arrived at her rental. As before, only the shell remained untouched. Inside, burnt toys lay beneath the rubble.

The children were gone.

Their faces came to mind. Meg, with her golden locks and sensible mind. Alexander, who was so afraid of the dark. Lauren and Mallory could be easily confused, and Emma was consumed with the fear that when she saw them again, she wouldn't know them apart. Fear grew to terror, rendering her useless. Her heart tore into four pieces, and all she could do was helplessly yearn for their blood to return to her veins.

"Emma! Over here!"

Anna found the nanny pinned beneath a door blasted from its hinges. Although injured, she was coherent enough to identify her attacker – a man who could only be Gambit.

"No," Emma said, "It must be another shape-shifter… Right? Gambit wouldn't do this."

Anna shook her head. "Whatever his involvement, he ain't fully guilty or innocent. Can you pick up the kids telepathically?"

"I've tried. I can't find them anywhere! Damnit, Anna, how can you be so _calm_?!"

"Because we're gonna find our kids, and we're gonna bring them home. Are you ready?"

….::::….

At the Boudreaux home, pandemonium reigned. The potential for trouble increased any time Assassins and Thieves mixed, and a slaughtered, shape-shifting alien proved to be the tipping point. Who else among them might be an imposture? Accusations were made, alliances were shattered. Between the warring factions stood a few frightened mutants.

"Can't you erase their memories?" Honor asked Nate.

"This many people? Not all at once…"

"Sedate them, then! Do _something_!"

"_You_ do something!"

She looked around and then charged up the stairs. He thought she was fleeing, but halfway ascended, she stopped and shouted: "My mother _gave her life_ to see us united! Will you fall apart without her?"

The ruckus died down.

Nate was relieved to see them turn to Honor for guidance.

Someone finally replied: "_She was poisoned!"_

"_No!_ She was _sick_!" Honor gripped the stairwell until her knuckles went white. "It's true, she kept it a secret. _I_ didn't even know. I know you're thinking 'what kind of fortune teller are you?'… Don't need mutant powers to see _that_. The truth is – I don't know everything. But I know everyone here has my trust. So I expect _you_ to trust each other, too."

Resentful eyes shuffled around the room.

"Five years ago," she said, "I asked you to follow me instead of more experienced, _wiser_ leaders. You accepted and I hold you to that. _Every one of you_."

"We _loved_ you," replied a middle-aged man with a cane. "You got our sons killed and then ran off to New York! Left us with _nothing_! I didn't vote for that!"

The mercurial crowd roared agreement.

Nate was ready to sedate the mob and get her to safety when a lanky young man leapt over the railing. Defending Honor's cause, he yelled: "Listen up, ass wipes!"

"Vaughn-" She placed a hand on his arm to try and physically haul the forceful words flying from his mouth, but he steamrolled over her objections.

"That woman's come back to life once already!" He hollered, "You wanna tango with a vengeance-seeking zombie? I get it, you're _pissed_. Hell, so am I! I didn't _vote_ for Belle's hot-headed _son_ at all! We don't _want_ New York's _rejects_!" He turned to Honor, "Your Guild wants _you_. They want _assurances_…"

For a moment, she was breathless. Nate could tell she'd been swept off her feet, but he was completely unprepared for what she said next.

"I have every intention of staying, and reigning _with_ my brother," she told the room. "I withdrew from Juilliard and applied at Loyola. I asked Vaughn to marry me-"

The crowd gasped and then cheered. Nate felt ill. Only he heard Honor's half-hearted warnings that the Council had to approve, and the union might not happen. No one dared look at René, burning with rage.

…:::…

To Be Continued…


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the X-Men.

**LeBeau Legacy: The End  
Chapter Six: Heroes and Martyrs  
**"Many that live deserve death. And some die that deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then be not too eager to deal out death in the name of justice, fearing for your own safety. Even the very wise cannot see all ends."  
~J.R.R. Tolkien

_Xavier Institute for Higher Learning  
Salem Center_

Walls of brick and steel crumble with stunning ease in comparison to the work constructing them. What are these objects? Earthen materials, hardened by fire: all elements within Stryfe's control. Softer than earth is the flesh behind the walls. Young, tender bodies thrown on the fire of Xavier's passion, meant to harden with time until they could become the blocks of his empire. The Mutant Liberation Front gutted Xavier of these raw resources. A few well-placed attacks broke loose the chains of harmony, and entropy reigned once more.

They should have known.

For all their experience, for all their knowledge, for all their training…

They should have known that their downfall would come from _within_.

Stryfe, formerly known as Ethan Fong, knew where to lead his army. He had once been a ward of Xavier's, so he knew the school's weakest points. But since his school days, the campus had gained a new guard dog.

Juggernaut woke up angry.

He ran through the crumbling walls and made his own exit. Stryfe threw up earth crust to stop him, but failed to slow his pace. Juggernaut slammed into Stryfe and they fell together into a cavern created by the crust disturbance.

Meanwhile, Scott and Rahne herded the children out of the building.

The Juggernaut didn't understand why Stryfe smiled as the life was being beaten from him. He didn't know Stryfe was already half-dead from cancer and trauma. Ethan Fong had been a lie. Sinister cloned him from Nate and Honor, and filled his mind with fake memories about a family that never existed. To make things worse, Ethan was sent to the same school as his genetic parents, where they'd become friends. Honor seduced and then blackmailed him. Eventually, the secret came out, and he'd been expulsed for having sex with a minor. Only later, when _Honor_ needed _his_ help, was he told of his true pedigree. Finally, Stryfe knew who he was. A monster. A freak. Nothing was sacred or pure, but in the Savage Land, Stryfe learned that he didn't want to die alone. Xavier's school was the last time anything had made sense. Although the people there had failed him and rejected him, he wanted to feel close to a time when he'd been accepted and happy.

But he wanted to hurt them, too. He wanted to rip away everything they cherished. So he smiled, dying, knowing that Genesis held the Shi'ar codes which would lock the security system into self-destruction.

Scott heard the terrified cries of the students. He felt the explosions and took a serious blow to the head. Random debris, so rightly placed, that it, too, caused catastrophic damage. He lay helpless, waiting for death, when Northstar lifted him and rushed him to safety. Why Cyclops? There were so many injured and no time to think, no time to go back. A firewall chased them to the edge of the property. Northstar collapsed. His body had been pushed to the brink.

Alone in the wood and contemplating his options, the world was dark and silent to Scott. Then the school began to glow and, still silent, the debris seemed to lift. A part of him hoped Jean had come to rescue them; the Phoenix would save the day! Whatever childlike optimism he retained died when the school began collapsing on itself. The self-destruction protocols had been initiated. Chaos and death, blinding and deafening, swallowed him alive.

….::::….

_Unknown Location_

Six children, aged seven and younger, were sealed beneath a transparent dome. Becca LeBeau pressed her fingers to every inch of their prison, searching for any weakness. Behind her, her brother sat listless and sulked.

"Cut it out, Becca. There's no way outta here."

"Our papa's a master thief. He'd find a way, so I can, too."

"_He's_ the one who put us here!"

Meg and Alexander each held a newborn, but their arms were shaking with fatigue. Alexander whined to his sister until tears ran down his face.

"I can't do it!"

Becca told her brother to help Alexander.

"No way!"

Meg pleaded with him, and guilt goaded him into surrender.

As he took the heavy, warm bundle, she started to squirm and cry out. Ollie panicked, but no one would take her from his arms. Instead, they slowly moved away from him as if he were ill.

"You guys _suck_!"

Gentle but firm footfalls approached the room where the children were held inside their transparent dome. Even from a distance, Ollie knew the visitor wasn't his father, so he was both curious and hopeful. A monster entered. It was half-man and half-beast: covered from crown to talons with black fur. A sinister rendering of their parents' friend, Dr. McCoy, the children knew enough to be on guard. Their angry little fists made him smile wickedly.

"Are those _battle stances_? How _precious_! Tell me, do you prefer latex, spandex or _leather_?"

He opened a small door in the dome, and Ollie considered rushing to escape. He wouldn't make it far with a baby, though, and he didn't know what this monster would do to Lauren – or him – if enraged.

"Stay away from my sister!" Meg hollered.

"_Relax_. The good doctor wants her healthy, so I intend to keep her that way."

In one swift motion, he snatched the baby and pushed Ollie off his feet. The door sealed seamlessly. Becca was immediately against the creases, working her fingers where the door had been. Meg shouted until Mallory started crying, too.

He paid them no attention.

On the other side of the closed door, the infant was dispatched onto Sarah's lap. She resented being used thusly, but her guilt over creating Sinister kept her docile. The Dark Beast left her to it, and returned to his laboratory.

Tessa was waiting on a secure line.

"I have it," she said. "When can you retrieve it?"

"I won't be able to," he said.

"Well, how do you purpose I get it to you? _You_ don't even know where you are."

"Don't be _snide_, child. What guarantee do I have that this will be successful? The opportunity, once lost, will not return."

"He wanted it badly enough. I think he knows it's the only thing strong enough to stop him."

"I do not like those odds." The Dark Beast sighed and rubbed his face. "Somewhere, there's a portal. I will open it once every twenty-four hours _precisely_. The first time, I will launch a coded tracking device. It will be your task to find it and wait for the next cycle. I cannot promise a lengthy exposé, so move quickly."

"I don't know if that's feasible. You're not the only with a cover to protect."

"If _my_ daughter dies because of _your_ failure," he growled, "I will hunt you down and tear you apart!"

….::::….

_Salem Center_

A mile-wide crater marred the earth where the school once stood. If Anna and Emma had come seeking help, they'd come too late. Paramedics swarmed at the scene, but it wasn't hard to find Hank McCoy. Beneath his experienced, blue talons, Scott drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Jean…" he mumbled, "Jean… Why?"

Emma slapped him and screamed, "_Where were you?!"_

Dr. Reyes pulled her off the unaware man.

"_They took my babies! Why weren't you there to protect them!? You should've loved __**them**__ more than __**her**__!"_

Anna's stomach knotted as Emma was sedated. It was the best thing. Emma was in hysterics, and clobbering her comatose husband wouldn't help anything. As the drugs took effect, and Emma slipped into slumber, Anna felt more alone than ever. She gently kissed her friend's temple, taking a dose of telepathy, and left.

….::::….

_Unknown Location_

'_I've seen some fucked up things,'_ Remy thought, _'but __**this**__ takes the cake.'_

Sinister's newest base looked like all the rest – vast and metallic. There were no windows or maps to give away their location; no gauges or water marks to even reveal the pressure it withstood. They might've been at the core of the earth or the summit of Jupiter's moon. Sinister, Gambit and the children had been teleported from a portal in New Orleans. Convincing the kids to jump into a puddle of light had taken all his charm, and they'd obeyed strictly out of trust. He knew he'd never have any credit with them again. The goal now was to keep them safe, and maybe one day, they'd understand.

If he'd found himself chained to the wall mock-BDSM style, he would've felt right at home. Instead, Sinister opened a couple of brewsters and kicked up his feet.

"What… No _world domination_ plans?" asked Gambit.

"Oh, my dear boy, why would I want that _cesspit_?"

With the flick of a switch, a screen lit up with a news report. A giant crater dented Salem Center, and from the aerial view, the people on the ground resembled ants. Remy tried to glimpse a woman with a tuff of white hair, but Sinister shut it down.

Gambit asked: "_You_ did that?"

"_I've_ been in the _Savage Land_, as you may recall. No, that was _clearly_ the work of mutant terrorists. Their _success_ confirms my long-held theory that the Shi'ar have turned against your old friends. Jean's return signed their death warrant."

"Not _my_ friends. Except for Anna, everyone I care about is here. And she can take down the Shi'ar and anyone else."

Sinister critically observed the former X-Man. "You forget how _fragile_ she is. I saved Rogue's life, and for my trouble, she _drained_ me to _death_."

"That was _Mystique_ dat double-crossed you, not Anna. And obviously, you've done _okay_."

"Yes… Thank Apocalypse for my continued survival. When he first found me, I was a pathetic baseline geneticist in an era of ignorance and superstition. He removed my humanity, sharpened my mind, and extended my life. Of course, nothing comes without cost, and the price I paid was work without end. I was a slave to his… _good grace_.

"Working with Gregor Mendel, I finally unlocked the key to human cloning. It was Apocalypse who supplied the technology for me to transfer my psyche from one shell to another. It's not my premier choice, mind you. I worry how the psyche corrupts during transfers from vessel to vessel. As you know, I have, on occasion, resurrected in the wrong body."

"_Miss_ Sinister," Remy remembered.

"I've also had the wrong mind resurrect in one of my clones. In that instance, I've built in several fail-safes. Should my body house another's psyche, the heart hordes blood flow until it erupts."

"Like Scalphunter."

"I would much prefer _immortality_. Fewer variables. I've been observing the mutant race since its conception, but none matched the power of Apocalypse. So I began injecting my own DNA with the elite of the _homo superior_. _Cyclops_ was the first.

"The labor was _painstaking_. First, I had to locate the _prime_ of the species. Then I had to infiltrate, experiment, and verify my results. Clones lightened my work load, but the most powerful were also the most challenging. And inevitably, the surplus bled into the population, where they encountered the X-Men. I feared Cyclops had discovered my plans when he first met Madelyne Pryor. I gave him too much _credit_."

"Is that why you poisoned the clones? To burn your bridges?"

"Not _all_. Oh no, never _all_. I'm quite _fond_ of some of them. I've also linked the lives of my specimen to my own. My death begins a domino effect resulting in their deaths." His black eyes flashed, "So you see, Mystique double crossed _you_, too. If she hadn't killed _me_, your ex-wife would still be alive."

Gambit finished his beer. "What about Maddie?"

"Done. Although I'm curious why you'd risk so much for _her_."

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for a pretty face…"

"I have enough of Bella Donna's DNA to recreate her-"

"Shut it down, Essex," Gambit said. "No more clones."

"I have enough of _your_ DNA to unravel your complicated genetic history. Surely you know that. You must've wondered who your parents were to participate in the Blackwomb project. Why you were so _painstakingly_ assembled, only to be _abandoned_ to the care of Thieves and Assassins… Miraculously, all mysteries are solved by blood."

"Nothin' in my past's worth re-livin'. What d'you want with my _kids_?"

"Genetic stock. Our world is _finished_, but the mutant race shall prevail."

"Don't count out the X-Men yet, Sinister. You've made that _mistake_ before."

"_Dead mutants walking_ – one and all. Mark my words, thief, I have read their future… And it is _dust_."

….::::….

_Kisumu, Kenya_

The news media had been covering the Xavier school massacre non-stop. Wolverine already had his ticket back to the States, but Storm was too weak to travel and too weak to leave alone. He'd asked Storm's ex-husband, T'Challa, to send a nurse, but after the Kree disguised as Yukio nearly killed her, they were taking no chances. An armed escort was moving her to Wakanda.

"_Nonsense!"_ Storm blustered. "The X-Men need me!"

She gripped the arm rests of the chair and attempted to stand, but could not find the strength.

"This don't concern you, darlin'…"

"_Stop_ – _**looking**_ – _at me… as though I deserve __**pity**__!"_ Her arms kept trembling.

The phone rang and Wolverine left her with her pride.

Suddenly, her body was thrust from the chair and into the wide, blue African sky. The wind blew through her long white locks and stripped away her stale clothes. Ororo closed her eyes and inhaled sweet freedom. Looking once more, she saw a face more precious than freedom.

"_Jean_!"

"We've been watchin' it on the news," Logan told the caller. "I can be there tomorrow… No, don't bother sendin' a jet. I can't leave any sooner."

He couldn't see the change in Storm, but she was somehow in the room with him and also above the city.

Jean had transcended humanity. Her flesh radiated like stars and her hair danced like flames, but her eyes her permanent presence – so _serene_. Ororo wanted to hold her old friend but didn't dare. Instead, tears ran down her face.

"I'm afraid I've only made things worse," Jean said apologetically.

"I have _missed_ you. We all have."

"I never left… A spark of the Phoenix resides in every living thing. I was brought together by men hungry for my power. They resurrected me before I could fully form, to control me while I'm weak. I need your help to stop them."

The veins in Logan's hands throbbed and his claws nearly popped out habitually. Instead, he growled: "_Whaddaya mean_ _**'missing'?!**_ They weren't even _in_ Salem Center!"

"Jean…" Storm sadly shook her head. "My body is ravaged from years of manipulating powers beyond my control. I am no help to anyone."

"We're a _team_, my friend."

Jean's flaming hair engulfed the astral plane in the burning form of the Phoenix.

Logan managed to hang up the phone without breaking it, but his molars were cracking under the stress. His godchildren, Ollie and Becca LeBeau, had been kidnapped. The four Frost-Summers children were missing, too. To make matters worse, Scott was preoccupied with the school's devastation. Emma had lost her mind. Remy, who Wolverine had never trusted, was the last person seen with the kids. Logan had agreed to protect those kids on Rogue's behalf – she was always blinded by her love for Remy. Now _she_ was missing, too…

Storm gently placed a hand on Logan's bone-hard shoulder.

He jumped and looked her over, stunned. "How-?!"

"Stranger things have happened, dearest…"

"This _can't_ be good."

She smiled and stroked his cheek. "I would rather go down _fighting_. If anyone can understand, it's you."

"Glad to have you back, love," he took her hand and softly kissed her palm. "I'd rather go down fightin' with _you_ at my side, and this might be our last _hoorah_… We've got a _Cajun_ to kill."

….::::….

_New Orleans_

A line of well-wishers crowded to congratulate the new couple. Beneath Honor's plastic smile, a telepathic conversation was buzzing like a beehive. Nate had opened a channel between her and her brother, and soon found himself railroaded by two unyielding forces.

'_René! Stop sulking and get over here!'_

'_I should've killed 'm! Pay off his family and be done with it. You expect my __**blessing**__?'_

'_I told you I would fix it, and you promised to support me!'_

'_No, no, no. You __**tricked**__ me! You're a manipulative __**liar**__, and I'm __**done**__ dancing to your tune!'_

'_I didn't know Vaughn was gonna jump to my defense, but if __**you'd**__ had my back-!'_

'_I don't know what to say!'_

'_-if you had __**any**__ credibility with the Guild! __**Or**__ the Council! We wouldn't __**need**__ Vaughn, but we do! Because __**you**__ don't know how to play the game! Let me tell you, __**little brother**__, the moment you're __**perceived**__ as weak, you __**are**__. So you can stand there and sulk and say you lost, or you can smile and take credit. I __**really**__ don't care – we have bigger problems. Nathan, where's Rogue?'_

'_She and Emma are headed to New York,' _Nate told her.

René finally joined the crowds. His eyes were murderous and his smile sharp as a shark's, but he shook Vaughn's hand and hugged his sister. One could only fight one enemy at a time.

'_They're going to the X-Men for help?'_ Honor replied, hugging a tense René. _'I don't like that. It means my dad's in trouble. The kids?'_

'_Emma says they're missing. That's all I know.'_

'_Can you sense them?'_

'_I'm not a human Cerebro.'_

René suggested utilizing the Guild, which Nate strongly objected to.

'_These people were ready for a Bloody Revolution ten minutes ago!'_

'_They were scared. Rogue killed a shape shifting alien at my mother's funeral. I'd freak, too.'_

'_René's right,'_ Honor chimed. _'They need to act and we need to lead them. There's a good chance the kids are still in town, and if so, we'll find them. What are you waiting for, Guild leader? Give the order.'_

Pale and a little breathless, René made some inhuman noise to get attention on himself. Without smiling, he said: "We're all happy for Honor and Vaughn-"

'_Should've called me 'your sister','_ she telepathically corrected. _'It's more endearing.'_

He shot her an impatient look, which couldn't have been timed more poorly, and Nate wondered if she were _trying_ to make him look bad.

"-but dis celebration's gonna be cut short," he continued, a sour look still residing on his face. "Mr. LeBeau and his two little kids are missing. We need to find them before they leave town."

"Right you are!" Honor swept in. "Everyone, get your ears to the ground! I'm offering a ten thousand dollar reward to any information leading to their rescue. If my father's with them, _do not_ attempt a direct confrontation. I want a tail and an immediate notification. It's possible they're in hiding and he may see you as a threat. Marie, you'll stay here with Hero and act in my place. René, Vaughn, Nathan – you're with me. Let's move, people!"

…:::…

_Capital Building of the European Union  
Paris_

It was a long shot, but the only lead Emma had: the Hellfire Club. She had been its White Queen during the Dark Phoenix debacle, and residing in Anna's mind, shared the knowledge necessary to pass herself off as Emma Frost. A member of the Inner Circle had a lifetime membership, so access was granted. Since Emma hadn't actually been _seen_ by the Club for ages, and Anna's absorption also stole Emma's style, her appearance was hardly questioned.

'_Sinister and the Hellfire Club were both after the Phoenix force,'_ Emma reasoned, _'They must have information on him… A base, an associate, __**something**__ to lead to my kids!'_

She was right.

With unlimited access to files on Sinister, Anna started at the beginning.

He had been born Nathaniel Essex in 1829, London. He became a geneticist, married, and had a son who died tragically young. Shortly thereafter, he vanished, but not before having a photograph taken. Between a top hat and mustache, Anna saw the eyes of the man she loved.

"It _can't_ be-!"

…:::…

_Unknown Location_

Gambit was not surprised when Wolverine and his team landed squarely in Sinister's trap. In fact, he felt slightly vindicated. He'd made the right decision by bringing the children to Sinister. If Wolverine, Storm, X-23, and Rachel Grey could fall so easily, Gambit would have fared no better. Then he stopped himself. Only _four_ X-Men were sent to rescue the kids? Certainly not. This was just the first wave. Even with the school demolished, Cyclops would have found more than _four_ agents.

Where was the cavalry?

"Looks like you were right," Gambit told Sinister. "Although you don't need _me_ to tell _you_ that."

Gambit noticed he had crossed his arms, just like Sinister, and instead moved his hands behind his back as the scene unfolded.

Between the ladies Mastermind, the X-Men were caught in an illusion so powerful that not even Logan's indomitable will or Rachel's legendary telepathy could break free. The illusions fed off their deepest desires, creating a cage they wouldn't wish to escape, even if they could.

_Mariko gently ripped Logan from a bad dream._

"_What is wrong, my love?" she asked softly._

"_Mariko?!" He unsheathed his claws. "Sorry, love, but you're __**dead**__. You're only alive in my __**dreams**__."_

"_What about __**me**__, runt?" Sabertooth asked, crashing through a window. _

"Rogue _should've_ been among them," Sinister complained. "Even if Cyclops hadn't _sent_ her, she would have come for her _children_. I could have protected her here. Now, she'll be lost with the others."

A low but irritating alarm cut between them. Gambit couldn't find the source of the noise and wondered if this was his preamble for another wave of X-Men. But Sinister didn't flinch. A holographic woman with a severe haircut and hard face approached Sinister.

"There's a problem with the children-"

"Then _solve_ it," Sinister snapped.

"Yes, sir. I need your permission to temporarily release them."

"Of _course_ they need released," Gambit rolled his eyes. "Haven't you let them use the bathroom? Are you feeding them? The babies need t' eat _often_, and the kids need t' _run_. Does _Sinister _need to instruct you?"

Sinister's black lips smiled with approval, and he waved the woman away.

"I don't trust her with my kids," Gambit said.

"I have saved your offspring from certain death. Trust that I would not let harm come to them here. You and I have other priorities."

Sinister revealed another holographic screen with police transcripts, recorded phone conversations, and pictures of assaults: Rogue breaking Remy's neck; Storm being strangled by Yukio; Tessa gunning down Essex.

"Warskulls have infiltrated the X-Men's ranks," said Sinister. "Along with mutant terrorists, they've 'thinned the herd'. Who possesses such _power_ and foresight, except the _Shi'ar_? With the return of the Phoenix, they have every reason to destroy the protection she finds among the X-men. As we speak, Xavier and his lackeys are planning a full scale war. But they've been misguided. Lilandra is a helpless puppet, too _proud_ to seek her only _hope_ for salvation - _Xavier's aid_. Of course, with Jean Grey, the X-Men could dismantle the Shi'ar Empire…

"What we're witnessing is a clash of Titans, Gambit – possibly on a _galactic_ scale. That's what Apocalypse considered himself: a _Titan_. Forgetting that those first gods were overthrown by their _children_.

"In the grand scheme, we have _no allies_. No one cares for this planet or the mutant race. We've been the cause of too much grief over the years. To them, this is _payback_. But I have ambitions of my own, with too many years invested in my own dreams to see them _sacrificed_ to another's cause. I seek only to save who I can, to complete my work again a better day.

"I want you by my side, Remy… Because where else should a son stand, but with his _father_?"

…

To Be Continued…


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the X-Men.

**LeBeau Legacy: The End  
Chapter Seven: Pull Together, Brothers, We're Burning**

"For you, a thousand times over."  
~Khaled Hosseini

_Logan accepted another glass of champagne from a lovely young lady. The sweet bubbles disappeared quickly down his throat. Normally, he didn't care for the stuff, but this brand – expensive, no doubt – got all the notes right. _

_He'd just relaxed when someone attacked him from behind, pinning him to the floor. No matter where Logan went, Sabretooth was always there!_

"_Miss me, runt?" Sabretooth growled, bringing his claws down for the kill._

_Jean emerged from the crowd, grabbed Sabretooth's hand, and easily threw him off._

"_That's enough __**foolishness**__. Logan! Get up!"_

_She was as elegantly dressed as everyone else in the room. A deep green velvet dress poured from the golden Phoenix emblem on her chest. Her crimson locks were literal flames, but her flesh was still human._

"_Jeanie… How are you here?"_

"_Cosmic entities can easily walk through dreams, Logan. I can't stay – Scott's about to make a __**grave error**__. He needs me. But I need __**you**__ to save his __**children**__. After all the pain I've brought him… it's the __**least**__ I can do. Hopefully, they'll still have a home to come __**back**__ to."_

"_When this is all over, we've got a lot of catching up to do," he said, stroking her cheek._

"_I hope we see the other side of this, Logan. The human Jean is so frightened I can barely stand it. Her love for all of you threatens what I must do."_

"_This ain't the end. At the end of the universe, right before the big bang kicks off again, I'll be there saving your seat."_

"_You would wait eternity to be with me?" Tears sprang from her eyes and evaporated into tiny flames on her face._

"_**Absolutely**__."_

Wolverine broke from his illusions with a savage roar. The Ladies Mastermind were no match for his claws, and the rest of his team awoke with vague memories.

Rachel recovered the quickest, saying: "I can't believe I never even _suspected_-"

Three adamantium claws pierced her back and chest.

"Logan, no!" Storm screamed, "What have you done?!"

"Query proceeds from false premise," Logan said as tiny, robotic assailants lodged in his flesh, blood and bones. "Unit known as 'Wolverine' no longer exists as an independent entity. He has been assimilated into _technarx_."

The nanomites spread from his claws to Rachel's chest, assimilating her body and mind.

"Kill them!" cried X-23, "Before it spreads!"

"I cannot! The children could be-!"

"If we die, so do they!" Laura fought against the tide with tooth and claw, but was overwhelmed by the sheer mass.

Storm spread her arms and the elements came like a lover. Lightning webs battered down the technarx, furious winds whipped it back, and thunder rang out like a war drum. The goddess had returned to her realm! Initially, the homecoming was exhilarating, but the electricity tore at her, the wind weakened her, and the thunder pounded down her strength. She knew what was happening, and was not afraid. Her spirit was breaking free of the flesh and feeding the frenzy. One last time, all her might would be poured into her weapons.

…:::…

_Unknown Location_

Becca never did find an escape route. The kids decided to take a different approach – one their parents had taught them.

Meg and Ollie started an argument, which turned into a fight. Becca came between them and was hurt. Ollie panicked and shouted that his sister wasn't breathing. The twins had been placed with Alexander, far from harm, and they slept through his crying.

The guards rushed in, led by the horrible woman in a hat.

"You should've released them!" One of the guards fussed at her, "Sinister said-"

"_Nothing_!" she snapped. "_Gambit_ told me to release them, which is just what he'd _want_! He doesn't _own_ me!"

"_Sinister_ said they weren't to be harmed! _Sinister_ said if anything happened to them, he'd pay us back one thousand times over! Any _cut_, any _bruise_-!"

The guards finally opened the seal, and as the horrid woman leaned over Becca, the young girl sprang up. Her Californian flip-flops collided with a satisfying crunch to the woman's face, and as she flew back, dark blood arched through the air. Ollie and Meg leapt onto the backs of the guards, and Becca ran head first into the woman's soft gut.

Alex had been wailing like a fire alarm, and it was no good telling him to be quiet. Suddenly, he gasped: "Gambit!"

Gambit yanked the woman away from his daughter and placed his body firmly between them. Extending his staff, he knocked one guard in the chin and the other in the knee.

"If even _one_ of these kids had taken a cut or bruise, Sinister would be the _least_ of your worries!"

Ollie and Meg ran to the twins and cradled them, ready to make a run for it. Alexander ran to Gambit and leapt in his arms.

"Ya'll alright?" he asked.

"We are now, Papa!" Becca beamed. "I knew you'd save us!"

"To make a start, anyway, chere… But we gotta long way to go."

Marrow charged in the room and launched a spear of bone between the father and daughter. She'd come so close to Becca's head that a lock of hair had been cut off. Becca froze, too stunned to move, and for a moment Gambit's heart ceased. He pushed her out of danger, using his body to shield her from another assault. Her brown, vibrant eyes looked over his shoulder and she shouted: "Daddy!"

Marrow ran towards him, bone sword raised for the strike, but Gambit swung around with his staff. She leapt over him, but he'd charged the floor around her. She was knocked back and blindly threw out several shards of bones like small daggers. Again, he used his body to shield the children and couldn't avoid the hits.

"Sarah! You used to be my student, so I'll give you the chance I wouldn't give anyone else in your shoes! _Walk away!"_

"Leave with those kids and they're _dead_!"

He wasn't going to risk their safety anymore. Charging his bo staff, he threw it with all his might. When it landed, the charge spread to the floor and wall, too, and the resulting explosion slated the rage boiling in his blood.

However, when the smoke cleared, a new enemy emerged.

"Ahh, Gambit," hummed Sinister, "I had hoped for so much more from you."

"Shame on me, then, for thinkin' you'd be proud for seeing the man you might have been!"

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I still possess the prime genetic material. One can always begin again."

"Never with these kids!" Gambit threw a handful of charged bone shards at Sinister and bolted with the children.

"What a waste… McCoy!"

The Dark Beast appeared.

"Those children are yours to do with as you wish."

…:::…

_Paris  
Chateau Shaw_

Tess held Sinister's death in her hands. The eight inch blade had been molded from the shell of the Phoenix egg. Like legend, it could never be destroyed: only re-shaped. Her hands trembled with fatigue and trepidation, but she would not release the weapon. Any moment now, Mystique had promised her coordinates.

Even if Shaw discovered her, at this point in the game, he couldn't stop her. Any weapon powerful enough to kill Sinister could surely cut down Shaw, too. Would it come to that? Tess knew she could kill Shaw if she _had_ to, but he knew that and would never push her. Part of him would be proud at her accomplishment: manipulating him into obtaining the shell and entrusting her with it. He never believed she ever gave up Honor, anyway. Furthermore, she wasn't using it against Shaw, but against an enemy.

Truthfully, Tess was more concerned with killing Sinister. He already had the children in his possession, which was too dangerous.

According to Honor's vision, Sinister would kill Rogue, then her children, and finally the X-Men. Tess knew from experience that Honor would go mad with this knowledge, which was the reason she stole the memory. She also knew the X-Men would gladly _wait_ for Sinister to slaughter an entire family _before_ taking action. Mystique vowed to protect her grandchildren with her life, but how could she stop Sinister without the Phoenix blade? She had only her wit, and that wasn't enough for Tess.

At last, the coordinates appeared on the screen. In a heartbeat Tess had them memorized and transferred to the tesseract portal. A silvery pool quickly opened. The wormhole was so still and placid that it might have been a mirror, and in fact, waited patiently at face level. She considered jumping through – to ensure the weapon reached its destination. That was a risk she deemed unnecessary. Mystique could hide a blade easier than a woman _and_ a blade.

She threw the weapon into the tesseract like a boomerang, and was instantly surprised when a group of children fell out.

Three started crying, and instinctively, Tess used her telepathy to silence them.

The portal sealed.

"Olivier LeBeau," Tess acknowledged, "I haven't seen you in some time… Do you remember me?"

"I know you!" he exclaimed, "You're my sister's friend!... Where are your clothes?"

She didn't bother to explain the Hellfire Club uniform for women was underwear. Instead, she said to the young girl: "And you must be Megan Summers. I thought there would be more of you."

"Becca and Gambit got lost," Meg said impatiently. "Where did you send them?"

"I didn't send them anywhere."

"Where are we?" the little girl demanded. "I need to tell my mom where – _wait a minute! You're not my mom!"_

The moment Meg realized her telepathic connection to her mother was no longer severed, she'd reached out for help. Her mother's mind was nearby, but in Rogue's body.

'_We teamed up,'_ Rogue explained, _'Works quicker this way. Now, can ya tell me where ya'll are?'_

Emma didn't wait. Looking through her daughter's eyes, she watched Tess kneel down to Meg's level and say: "Paris."

…:::…

_New York_

The wormhole ended with infinite black. Gambit and Becca tumbled onto brick and quickly found each other through the darkness. As his eyes adjusted to the absence of light, he realized the other children were missing. But _someone_ was near.

"Papa, the others-!" She said, giving away their position.

"We'll find them, but right now, we need to make sure _we're_ safe," he quietly said. He hoped she would be soothed by his confidence. He also hoped the stranger watching them would think him unaware.

"What could be _safer_ than _darkness_?" the stranger spoke.

_Sarah_ had brought them here.

"You can see _perfectly_, can't you?" she said. "That's why he hired you to lead the others."

"Told you, did he?" Gambit asked, moving Becca behind him.

"_I remember_," she slowly hissed. "How could you show your face to me – _everyday?_ Did you think I would _forgive_ you? It took a while... And then I thought I had _imagined_ it. _You_. My teacher. So _wise_ and _cool_. Of course I would put _your_ face to the man who saved me. It wasn't until I _saw_ Sinister that I remembered that night. Your eyes were so _wicked_. And _Sabertooth_-! Is _that_ a story you tell your children at night? Or do they still think you're a _hero_?"

Her skin stretched and popped as bones rose.

"I did a terrible thing, but I didn't know what Sinister had planned. That's why I _saved_ you, Sarah. I wish I could've done more. When Sabretooth realized I'd gotten you to safety, I took your beating. I would've died if the X-Men hadn't come."

"You deserve to die here! Just like the Morlocks!"

"Nobody wants to be in Sinister's debt, Sarah. You know that as well as I do. What'd he promise you? It ain't worth the price. Never is."

"Don't act like you care! He never even tried to help me. He lied to me, every day, like you! He's the father of lies and you're his spawn! I want him destroyed! He took everything from me, and I want to end him!"

"Sarah, I-"

"But _you need_ him dead. He's finally figured out how to live forever without the clones. _That's_ why he purged them. Jean Grey was the missing piece. He sold all your Savage Land bastards to get his hands on her, and once that happens, he'll be _immortal_. He'll seek out you and _everyone_ you love. Madelyne, Rogue, those kids… They're only safe _with_ him or with him _dead_."

"Where are the kids?"

"Which ones?"

"_Ollie and the Summers' kids!"_

"I don't know. McCoy got them. They're safer with _him_ than Sinister, but they won't be safe for long."

"Take me back to the base, and then get Becca to Rogue."

"I want him _gone_, Gambit. _No compromises_."

…:::…

_New Orleans_

Marie warned René to watch himself around Vaughn. She was worried for his safety. René wasn't afraid. With Nate and Honor around, Vaughn was the easy target. So he thought.

It quickly became clear to René that _he_ was the outsider.

The Guild had effectively sealed off the city. They were combing the streets and flushing out safe houses. Nate had hastily put a team of X-Men on the hunt: Wolverine, Storm, X-23, and his half-sister, Rachel. Vaughn had his Texan contacts watch the ports, so no one could take the kids through the Gulf. And René felt painfully aware of his political inadequacies. He didn't have an army at his back. But his wife had been left in charge at the headquarters, and René was a vital member of the offensive team. He wasn't _useless_. Outrageously, he wasn't being _used_, either.

Vaughn never spoke or listened to anyone but Honor. She said very little, but it was obvious to René that she and Nate were conversing telepathically.

René followed her lead, but had no idea what was happening. The fact that no one _else_ had to ask made him feel even more sidelined. In the end, he decided to follow Honor's lead and conceal his ignorance. He wouldn't be put in this position again, but there was more at stake here than his pride.

Nate drove them to the Air Force Base, where Honor announced they were going to steal a jet. She assigned René has the scout. Vaughn would follow and secure the plane. Honor would use her precon skills to foresee any complications and Nate would intercept while keeping everyone connected.

No one responded.

René stepped out of the car and faded into a column of smoke. The wind seemed to guide him through the fence and across the tarmac.

Fifteen minutes later, René signaled for Vaughn, and he dashed across the open base, too.

Finally, Nate asked Honor: "What haven't you told us?"

She looked at him but remained silent.

"Don't try to charm me, it won't work. We're risking _a lot_ here! My dad and Emma are down, and I don't know where my brother and sisters are. I'm blind enough _without_ you lying to me."

She looked away. "My dad has the kids. They're safe. They'll get home safely."

"Where are they?"

"I can't say."

"_Can't_ or _won't_? _Where_ are we going?!"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "They've split the kids into four groups. Keeping track of them and watching out for the guys is getting… The kids are safe and they'll get home safe. Please trust me on that. The other kids – from the Savage Land – that's where we're going."

"You can trust me. And René. And I _guess_ you trust Vaughn, he seems hopelessly devoted. Why didn't you tell us this from the start? You're so used to _lying_ for your dad, you can't stop!"

She covered her face with her hands. "No. Nate… There's something I _knew_ that's gone now. Something's _wrong_."

Vaughn signaled for them.

Nate was going to lie: tell Honor that they'd failed, and call Vaughn and René back. But she knew what was happening, and proceeded without another word.

…:::…

_Paris_

"Momma!" Ollie gleefully leapt into his mother's safe arms. "Dadwasn'tworkingwithSinister! Hepretendedtokeepussafe!"

"Oh, that man!" she sighed. "Trust him to do things the hard way."

Tears sprung to her eyes, although she didn't know why. Relief. Joy. Betrayal.

"Where are my parents?" Meg asked.

Anna reached out her arms and embraced the four Summers children, too. Using Emma's telepathy, she bridged their little minds to Scott's, so that the family could briefly be united.

"Ollie, honey," Anna said, "Where's your father and sister?"

"I don't know. We jumped into a portal and we came out here, but they never did."

"Maybe they got left behind… Tess, can you trace the tesseract?"

"Done. Sinister's in Genosha. I've sent the coordinates to Xavier, and Cyclops is debating who to send where and for what purpose. I'm telepathically linked to the conversation now. Would you care to join?"

"You're working for Xavier?"

"Try to keep up, Rogue."

"Tell Scott I'm going. My husband and daughter are still missing. Can you keep an eye on the kids?"

"These children are more capable than you credit them. But you would do better to wait. One team has already gone missing."

"All the more reason to move." She knelt and hugged Ollie again. "I love you, son. I'm going to get your daddy and sister, and then we're going home. Be brave just a little longer."

…:::…

_Sinister's Genoshan Base_

When Rogue arrived, she tore through the walls like a torpedo. She retained enough of Emma's telepathy to know Becca and Remy weren't behind the next wall, but anything more than that was a blur. It didn't matter. If she had to tear the base down piece by piece, she would. And if Sinister was wise, he'd make himself scarce, or she'd tear him apart, too.

Letting her fist lead the way, she blew through steel walls. The Ladies Mastermind lay still in one room. In the next, she was confronted by technarx versions of Logan, Rachel, and Laura.

"Now Ah'm getting somewhere!"

'_Rogue, be careful!'_ Emma's weak imprint cautioned. _'The slightest touch could be fatal!'_

"Which means in all likelihood, my friends are _dead_. Sinister thinks Ah'll try and _save_ them. Whatever he's up to, he ain't finished yet, or he'd be here to stop me himself."

The robotic shadows of her friends wouldn't let her pass without a fight. They no longer had access to their mutant powers, but could melt, stretch and reassemble. If they could surround her, she was finished.

As they moved in around her, she spun like a tornado. She must've looked like the Tasmanian devil. It created a force field that prevented the nanomites from touching her. They continued to press while she held her ground, and when the pressure became unbearable, she shot into the air like a rocket. The nanomites collapsed and scattered.

She glanced back and saw the tiny robots congregate once more. She could've sworn she glimpsed Rachel's Phoenix eye blazing, and said a little prayer that her friends were still alive and fighting the good fight.

'_Anna…'_ Emma's imprint whispered. _'I can't hold on… The base can't be penetrated by telepathy… You'll be on your own.'_

"Ah got this, Em. Get better and get to your youngin's."

'_Thanks, darling…'_

As their link closed, Rogue's blond hair returned to brown, and she took a moment to gather her wits. She would have to be more cautious without Emma's telepathy and support.

"_Rogue!?"_

"**Remy**!"

Her heart soared and his face beamed. They rushed to be together, and she fit perfectly in his arms.

"Ah've been looking _all over_ for you!" She said. "Ah was beginning to think Ah'd _never _see you again-!"

"_Anna!_" Mystique cried.

Rogue had only a moment to wonder what the hell Mystique was doing here when Remy pulled back. A blade appeared in his hand. In a flash, the blade was thrust into her gut, and he held her by her hair to prevent escape.

"In _truth_, my dear, I'm afraid you never will!"

"Remy…"

Anna didn't understand. She didn't hurt. She couldn't feel _anything_ but could see blood pooling around her. Her legs failed her, and she collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.

"Rogue, please no!" Mystique rushed over and pulled her daughter into her arms.

"I _knew_ you would come!" 'Remy' boasted. "Like a lion for her cubs! I had only to wait to deliver a 'father-in-law's' fond farewell! And now, to _finish_-!"

He gripped the handle and prepared to stab her again when Gambit rushed in.

Sinister turned, unable to miss watching the pain he had inflicted. The hesitation gave Mystique time to knock the weapon from his hand, and Gambit tackled him to the ground.

Mystique pulled Gambit back and said: "See to your _wife_, thief. Sinister is mine."

"Fool!" Sinister spat at her. "I have _achieved_ immortality! _You_, on the other hand, are mortal. Even your _metamorphic_ powers can't change that!"

He threw every weapon that he'd collected over the years – optic beams, telekinesis, energy charges – but she kept coming. Finally, he reached for two guns loaded with special rounds. He'd created them himself. They destabilized mutant DNA, which would ensure death even from a flesh wound. He unloaded on her. But she kept coming.

"I know what you have! I've been watching all along!" She morphed into the Dark Beast. "Of course I'm immune!"

"McCoy!?"

"Never even _suspected_, did you? Here's another lesson – this dagger was forged from the Phoenix egg shells. Cosmic scraps still outrank human existence. Doesn't matter how far you've evolved!"

"Mystique," he swallowed his pride, "With what I've got on file, we can create a new and improved Rogue!"

"I love the one I've got!"

"We can create a better world!"

"Absolutely. I'm about to improve the world by taking you out of it!"

Sinister predeceased Rogue, but not by long. While Mystique cruelly hacked away, Rogue was slowly fading. Her blood flowed as profusely as Remy's tears, and it was useless to try and stop either. Blood and tears, tears and blood. They would both die here.

"Hold on, chere, help's coming. The X-Men-"

"Hush, love…" She touched his lips, "Ah've heard… enough lies to know 'm…"

"It's not fair! When I was _dying_, you pulled me back from heaven!"

"Feel free to… cut a deal with God…"

"Please don't go, Anna. Please!"

"_Ollie's_ safe… And Meg and the others… They're with Tessa in Paris…"

"Becca was with me. Oh god, Anna, how can I tell them?"

"_You're_ the charmer, find a way…"

"How do I go on?"

"You're the man Ah _love_… You'll find that, too…"

"Anna, please don't go."

"Kiss me…"

"Please, please, please, please, please-" he begged with his mouth against hers.

"A _real_ kiss, damnit. One last time…"

…

To Be Continued…

…

**Author's Note:** Most of the dialogue I used was "inspired" by Claremont's version. Not only do I have my own story to tell here, but Claremont's dialogue is choppy, disjointed, and downright confusing. I tried to smooth things out a bit. But the conversation between Remy and Anna as she died was flawless and I did as little as possible to alter it. Therefore, I can't take credit for that heart-felt farewell.


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the X-Men.

**LeBeau Legacy: The End  
Chapter Eight: All We Do is Fight**

"Maybe all one can hope to do is end up with the right regrets."  
~Arthur Miller

_Over the Gulf of Mexico_

Nate was piloting the jet, counting the years of prison time awaiting him, when Honor said: "Has she told you yet?"

Next, Emma was screaming telepathically: _'We found them! Meg! Alexander! Oh, my babies!'_

Nate could only endure it, since there was no way to telepathically 'plug his ears'.

"Emma says they've found her kids," he told René and Vaughn. Apparently, they were the last to know. They sat on the side bench behind Nate, as far as possible from each other, with Honor between them.

'_Are they __**safe**__?' Nate asked Emma, 'What about the __**LeBeaus**__? Have you heard from __**Rachel**__?'_

"What about Becca and Ollie?" asked René.

Nate couldn't tell if Emma responded. There was too much interference. It sounded like every telepath in the world was suddenly shouting over each other.

"Sorry guys," Nate said, "I can't tell what's going on… I lost her."

"Let's go home," said René. "Before Marie gets her hands on Gambit."

"The twins could still be missing," Vaughn countered. "_That's_ who we're looking for. And ripper or no, if your wife gets in the ring with Gambit, I'd put my money on _him_."

"_Are you threatening-?!"_

"**Enough!**" Honor yelled, holding her head. "Nate, our cover at the Air Force Base is blown. I need you to make Captain Rosedale think he's been given higher orders, and that the plane's in Mississippi for maintenance."

"No, ma'am," said Nate, "I came this far to rescue my family, and now that it's done, we're going back."

Vaughn argued: "The other kids are still missing!"

"Ollie and Becca are _fine_," Nate said. "Honor's known that all along, haven't you, 'On? In fact, she's not the _least_ concerned. We've been _had_, gentlemen."

"Stop it!" she yelled. "I can't see what you're gonna do, it's not fair! Just _listen_ to me!"

"No!" he shouted back, "_I'm_ in the driver's seat, _Vaughn_ broke in – _you_ and your _brother_ have complete deniability! If I get charged with treason, I could lose my scholarships! And _unlike_ you, I don't have parents who will bail me out of every mess! The kids are safe, we're going home!"

Honor groaned and buried her head in her palms, "No, no, not again… They're splitting them up again!"

Nate refused to show sympathy, but Vaughn gently held her head and said: "The visions are overwhelming you. I've seen it before. I can help you. Why don't you take some lithium? I always carry it for you. Yeah? Now tell me about. Whatever you want, I'll get. You gave me everything I've got, chere. Doesn't matter to me if you wanna save these kids or bomb a country. _I'm with you_."

'_Oh, he's slick,'_ René thought. _'I can't believe this shit!'_

'_Gets results, though,'_ Nate replied. _'Sorry, man, you were broadcasting.'_

'_You're the __**doctor**__. Should he be giving her __**lithium**__? If she gets sick, I'll kick his head in. You heard what he said about Marie?'_

'_She'll be fine. And you need to forget most of what this jackass says, he's trying to wind you up.'_

"Vaughn…" Honor groaned. "My father has two dozen illegitimate children. They were born _after_ the twins. You know what I'm saying?"

"Papa was a rolling stone, yeah, I got it."

"_No_. He _wasn't_. These children had good homes. Their fathers – the men who raised them – couldn't produce children. So he helped. That's what he does, he rescues people."

"No, no, no-" Nate interjected. "The X-Men aren't _gigolos_."

Honor kept speaking: "It's the _Savage Land_. They couldn't exactly call an _adoption firm_… Anyway, an evil man wanted to punish my father. So he killed the children's parents and sold them to intergalactic slave traders. Do you know how _vast_ the interstellar galaxy is?"

"Sounds big."

"If I can't keep track of them, they'll be lost forever."

"Even if you _don't_," said Nate, "You could spend _forever_ tracking them and _still_ never get them all."

Vaughn put a protective arm around Honor and said: "Don't listen to him. If you want a smaller galaxy, that's what you'll get."

'_Rene,' Nate thought, 'I don't mean to alarm you, but we're losing your sister… We've gotta do something.'_

'_Good. We agree. I'll drop him in the ocean and you mind wipe 'On.'_

'_No! For God's sake, no more bloodshed! You've gotta __**compromise**__. Give her an out in a way that she can save face. Look, she's a beautiful woman with wealth and power. Vaughn won't be the last leech you've gotta deal with. Stop __**challenging**__ her. Give her what she wants and get what you want. __**That's**__ leadership.'_

Finally, René said: "I know. Lila Chenney. She can teleport across galaxies."

"Yes!" Nate cheered, "There's a _much_ better idea!"

"You could direct her," René continued, "Get in and out. Not have to stress about getting equipment and lying about it. Meanwhile, I'll watch the kids. We'll have to hide their identities, but… Between all our Guilds – Texas, Louisiana, and New York – we can find homes for all of them. Maybe Marie and I could even take one."

"T-thank you, René… Vaughn and I can handle one or two."

Vaughn made a noise of disbelief, and Honor shot him a dirty look.

"_Gambit's_ responsible for those kids," said Nate. "Let him take a couple. Hell, let him take them _all_. He can _afford_ it."

He felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders. Had they successfully reached a bloodless consensus? René had made a grand gesture, but what had he gotten in return? Nate never got a chance to ask. His sister telepathically called.

"Baby brother!"

"Rachel! Thank god, you're- What's wrong with you?"

An astral projection of Rachel appeared in the jet. Normally, a mind made visible was fussy around the edges or discolored, but this Rachel was grey as stone. Her skin would've been grainy to the touch.

"I was momentarily absorbed into the technarx," she explained, "My mind's back, but purging my body's taken a bit longer than I anticipated. Emma's kids are safe in Paris."

"Our **siblings**. What about the LeBeaus?"

"Ollie's with them and Becca's _en route_. But there was a confrontation… Rogue was injured by a weapon meant for Sinister. She couldn't recover… She didn't suffer long and she wasn't alone. Honor, I'm sorry to tell you this, but… _Rogue's gone_."

…:::…

_Genoshan Base_

Remy wanted to hold her forever. The untouchable things that had made his wife were gone. Her kindness. Her loyalty. Her love for her family. All she'd left was the shell of herself. He gently laid her down as his invisible things yearned for hers.

Where had she gone?

Mystique braced herself on Remy. Her bloody gloves desperately clung to his shoulders, reminding him of all the people he'd have to hurt. The X-Men had to be told. The twins would be devastated. How could he ever deliver that blow to them? Their family of four was now a family of three. How could they ever go on without her?

Gently, a telepath pressed against Remy's mind. Like an old friend knocking on the door, Remy knew who it was. He allowed Xavier to enter and review his memories. For a long time, Xavier said nothing. He simply shared Remy's grief. Then, he addressed the reason for his visit.

'_Gambit, I'm sorry I couldn't do more to prevent Rogue's death… But hundreds of families have suffered losses at Sinister's hands. Because of his designs, hundreds more may __**yet**__ suffer. Indeed, he has placed the __**world**__ in danger. I believe he has been working with others to manipulate Lilandra, and by extension, the Shi'ar Empire. _

'_You're uniquely positioned to uncover this conspiracy – since your genetic makeup is __**identical**__. Posing as Sinister, you could reveal the true assailants._

'_The timing is dreadful, I realize. But this cannot wait. Scott and the others have ignored my veto for war. They plan to retaliate against the Shi'ar. Words cannot express how horrendous the results will be. We must do everything we can to shine light on the truth. Time is of the essence.' _

Mystique wanted to go instead, but the disguise had to be flawless. Only Remy could pass. The X-Men would get one chance at this – it had to be right.

By the time he had crawled into Sinister's outfit and adorned the ruby diamond that corrupted his face, Rachel had recovered and joined them. She was still working to purge the technarx assimilation protocols, but felt more than able to assist.

"I'll keep you in touch with the team," Rachel said, "At the first sign of danger, we'll pull you out."

"_Non_… You follow Xavier's lead. Don't risk your life for me. You've already done that enough, and look what it cost you."

"The spark of the Phoenix is _more_ than enough to defeat the technarx. Wolverine and X-23 should recover, too, thanks to their healing factor. But Storm has been quiet too long. I fear the worst. Gambit, I'm sorry, I know she was your friend."

"More than that, she was my kids godmother." He turned to Mystique and said, "Guess they'll be spendin' a lot more time with their grandma. Anna always wanted you t' be more involved with them. Sorry I didn't let that happen. I'm sorry for a lot of things. You were right, Raven, she deserved a better man. Don't hold it against them, they can't help who their father is."

Mystique burst into tears, holding him tightly. Sobs wracked her body. She hadn't wept like this since her first heartbreak; not even Irene's death had shaken her this badly, but then, Irene had been aged and serene. Rogue had still been young and passionate.

"Your children need their father!"

"A father's first duty is to keep his children safe. Sinister's slavers and the Shi'ar know all about morphs, but I'll succeed because I'm the real deal. This is my final gift for my kids… And they're Anna's final gift to you. A _real_ family. No more lost causes. No more broken dreams. A _real future_."

"Good-bye, son."

…:::…

_New Orleans_

Even though Nate had refused to telepathically cover for Honor, he finally relented. She left him no choice. Rogue's death had left her broken. No, that wasn't fair, he decided. It wasn't just Rogue's death; it was also her mother's funeral, Caradoc's death, and her anxiety over the missing children. Honor had finally broken. She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. If Nate hadn't created a diversion, she would've given them away. What good would it do her to be arrested?

"Why didn't I see this coming?" she kept asking no one in particular. "I'm _useless_! Why didn't I _see_ this coming? _Useless!_ I'm useless! _Why_ didn't I see this coming?"

"Can't one of you help her?" René demanded, holding her like a child.

"I've given her enough tranquilizers to take down an elephant!" Vaughn said, "That's all I've got!"

"Why do you _carry_ so much?" asked Nate. "You know what, never mind."

"Let's get her home and in bed," her brother said.

'_Useless! Why didn't I see this coming?!' Honor's mind scolded her._

'_You did, my love,' Tess's voice answered._

_Suddenly, they were together on the astral plane. One or perhaps both of them had projected the airport terminal where they'd last spoken. This time, Honor threw herself into Tess's arms, and Tess showered her with kisses. Dark, smeared lipstick replaced tear tracks._

'_You saw it coming,' Tess said. 'I took the memory and wiped your mind.'_

'_Why?'_

'_I wanted to spare you the pain of failure. Besides, you would've attempted to rescue all those in danger, which was an impossible task. I collected the data you could not access. I made the tough choices you could not have lived with. It pains me to be away from you, to keep things secret. I hope my pain is penitence enough.'_

'_That doesn't matter now. You're here. That's all that matters…'_

'_The lost children can yet be saved. The X-Men are formulating a plan to track Sinister's involvement with the slavers. Can you see the children? I need you to gather all the information you can on them. Picture their faces, names, locations. Focus all your effort on that and nothing else. I will link the data to Gambit to aid him in his recovery. Any memory or thought you've ever had about those children could help him. Give everything to me.'_

…:::…

_Salem, New York_

Using another portal, Mystique delivered the children to Scott in New York. He was still in emergency mode, trying to get aid to the wounded, identify the dead, and contact the families before the media, but he gave the kids his full attention. Mystique was pleasantly surprised.

Like ducklings, the Frost-Summers children sieged Scott, and he gathered them in his arms.

"Where's _mom_?" asked Meg. "Why isn't she here?"

"She was hurt, kids, but she's getting better… I'll take you to see her. That's the best medicine ever."

"But daddy," Meg looked back at her friends, "What about Ollie and Becca?"

Again, Scott gave his full attention.

Kneeling to the twins' level, he said: "I know how hard this is. I know part of you wants to be brave. But mostly, you want to scream and rage and beat up on god himself. I know what I'm saying seems like the words folks are supposed to say at times like this, but I've stood where you stand. I've lost what you've lost. If you ever need a hand to hold-"

"Just bring their father home," Mystique demanded. "Until then, I'll care for them as Anna would."

"Where is _Gambit_?"

"Leading your _daughter_ and _mentor_ into the lion's den."

…:::…

_New Orleans_

The drugs had finally taken Honor down. Carrying her limp body upstairs required Nate, Vaughn, René, _and_ Marie. Nate joked about how she didn't look so heavy, but no one laughed, and after she'd been tossed on her bed, Hero curled up beside her.

"_Is she going to die, too?"_ signed Hero.

"_No, baby,"_ Marie signed back. _"Just sleeping. You want to sleep with her?"_

"_Yes."_

As they four adults stepped out of the room, the squabbling began again.

"Dat girl's been scarred for life," Marie said. "Pransu wants to move her back to New York after today."

"Over my dead body!" René objected.

Fighting was all he did anymore, and Vaughn gladly rose to challenge him. Marie tried to reason with her young, angry husband, but Nate just walked away. He could still hear them if they called, but he was too exhausted to listen anymore. His whole body felt heavy, as if Vaughn had drugged him, too. He wanted to see the children – Meg, Alexander, Lauren, and Mallory. They wouldn't care, but it would make him feel immensely satisfied to see them safe and happy. As he attempted to reach out telepathically to his father, Rachel again came to him.

'_You look terrible,' she said._

'_Rough day. I've spent all day fighting against the LeBeaus and getting nowhere. You're looking better, though.'_

'_Not too good, I hope. I'm going with Gambit to flush out the traitors, and hopefully I look convincing enough as a technarx assimilation.'_

'_You can't! Ray, you have no idea what you're going up against!'_

'_Neither does he. He needs a telepath, and I'm already here. Besides, this isn't just about him. If we don't expose the true attackers, Cyclops will bring an army to the Shi'ar. That cannot happen.'_

'_The Shi'ar have orders to kill you on sight. How do you know they won't, even if they believe you've been brainwashed?'_

'_They can try. They've tried before. My mom was – __**is**__ – the Phoenix. That's all the edge I need. Sorry, Nathan, you aren't going to talk me out of it. I just wanted to say how much I love you. How proud I am of you. I'm fighting so you won't have to. I want you to have your dream of becoming a doctor and save some fucking lives for once! This family – all we do is __**fight**__. You can change things. I know you can.'_

'_Let me come with you. An extra telepath can't hurt, and if someone gets injured-'_

'_There's no time. Besides, you've got your whole life to live. I've been living on borrowed time since I jumped dimensions. You're the last of my family, and I won't put you in danger.'_

'_What about dad? The kids? How can you just __**abandon**__ them?!'_

'_They have too much of Emma in them. Maybe that's wicked of me, but there it is. Your mother's a clone of mine. Her life was in danger, just like Honor's mother. Gambit struck a deal with Sinister for her life. He didn't have to, but he did. I owe him.'_

'_No, __**I **__owe him. Where are you, I'll-'_

'_Look after his children. __**That's**__ how you'll re-pay him.'_

'_I love you, sis. I need you. Who else helps me when the shit hits the fan?'_

'_I love you, too, baby brother. I may never get to say that again, but it's always true. I love you enough to kill and die for you. So you better live a life worth dying for.'_

Alone in Honor's living room, Nate realized he'd been crying.

Upstairs, René and Vaughn were still arguing.

His body walked back upstairs, but his mind was only vaguely present. When he spoke, the words seemed to speak themselves – calm and measured.

"Those girls need peace and quiet. Don't need medical training to know that much. **You** two leave, and don't return till you've made peace." To Vaughn, he said: "If you loved her, _really_ loved her, you'd respect those she loves. You disgusting little pusher. I should rip your throat out for using her the way you have, but I _love_ her. So I respect you. _Don't push your luck_."

His eyes turned on René. "And **you**. The Judas I _didn't_ see. I wondered why you'd offered to care for those children… Because if you found them homes, Honor would feel indebted to you. If you knew their identities, you could use that to blackmail her. And as long as she was out rescuing more, she couldn't be here to run the show. Am I wrong?"

No one spoke.

"Oh, that's right," Nate continued, "I've severed your motor skills. Should've done it hours ago. Let this be a lesson, gentlemen. Abuse her again and you'll spend the rest of your life _brain dead_. Now leave. Don't come back till you've made up or killed each other. I really don't care which."

Nate didn't telepathically _force_ them to obey, but he had filled their minds with dread to drive them away.

As soon as they'd left, he realized his mistake. Nate wasn't his father. He wouldn't use his powers to manipulate people into getting his way. _He wasn't a bad person_.

Outside, gun fire. Three blasts.

Nate rushed downstairs and peaked through a window to see a black pick-up truck speed away. _Shit!_ He didn't think they'd really _kill_ each other!

Marie had been shot twice in the chest and left on the ground to die. Vaughn and René were missing, and someone had gone into the truck bleeding. Nate let them go, choosing to stay with Marie. She spoke incoherently, but he couldn't listen. Healing wounds this severe required too much concentration.

"De T'ieves… tryin' t' kill…"

"I know you're frightened," he said calmly, "but I need you to relax. Your brain is re-directing a lot of energy and your heart's working overtime to repair your wounds. Any stress you can eliminate will only help."

Like everyone else, Marie ignored Nate. The instant her skin sealed back together, she was on her feet.

"I told you to relax!"

"Not when René's about t' be murdered!"

"If Vaughn wanted him dead, he would've killed him here. He shot you, knowing I'd save you and would lose his trail. The Thieves don't kill, _you_ do. I have deduced _that_ much from your _secret code_. Besides, Vaughn wants to keep 'On, and if he kills René, he'll burn that bridge forever. Self-interest comes first."

"You're his friend!" she roared, "You owe 'm better! You know he ain't as clever or charmin' as his sister! He didn't know de first thing 'bout N'awlins! His momma forced dis life on 'm too soon. When he fights, it's because he cares and don't know how else t' show it!"

"If he's gonna fight, he should be prepared to take a few hits. You seem to forget he tried to kill Vaughn. He deserves a good ass-kicking."

"You ain't his friend at all!"

"No!" Nate let his rage speak. "I don't care! _Don't you get it?!_ Everyone I love is rushing into deep space to save this whole planet! There's a good chance they'll _fail_ and we'll all die anyway! Your petty, _stupid_ little feuds don't mean _shit_ to me! I'm _here_ because if the X-Men _fail_, 'On and I may be Earth's last chance, and she's suffering a _complete_ mental breakdown! René ranks _super low_ on my list of things to care about!"

Marie stood in stunned silence.

Nate left her there, feeling every bit like the monster he wasn't supposed to be.

…:::…

To Be Continued…


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the X-Men.

**LeBeau Legacy: The End  
Chapter Nine: The Die is Cast**

"He had an idea that even when beaten he could steal a little victory by laughing at defeat."  
~Jack Steinbeck

Masquerading as Sinister, Gambit led Rachel and Sarah to the Shi'ar throne room.

Sarah had been an invaluable source of information. She told them where Sinister had been, how he had gotten there, and who he had contacted. However, there was still much that Sinister had kept hidden, and that's where Rachel came in. She would telepathically anticipate the expected reactions and relay them to Gambit. Also, she was in constant communication with Emma, who was still on Earth.

Cyclops and his X-Men were quickly assembling and creating a portal which could transport them to the Shi'ar throne room, too. His mission was retaliation.

Gambit knew they had to hurry before the X-Men brought down the hammer of war.

As a man approached, Gambit was suddenly blinded by a vision. In a flash, he saw twenty-five toddlers and knew their names. He remembered their mothers – all of them – and knew where all of the children were being held.

'_What was that?'_ he asked Rachel.

'_Stress, Gambit… Try to focus.'_

The man wore elaborate, heavy armor that covered most of his body. Only his eyes and bottom half of his face was revealed.

'_I can't get a read on him,'_ said Rachel. _'Be prepared for anything.'_

"Only _one_ X-Man? Sinister, my friend, you are coming up short."

"Don't be foolish," replied Gambit, "You know as well as I do that X-Men are never alone. More shall be forthcoming, _Khan_."

'_You know him?!'_ Rachel asked.

'_An old foe. Jumps dimensions and crushes his opponents. He's with the __**Shi'ar **__– who's using who here?'_

Almost on cue, Xavier entered the throne room and requested the Empress Lilandra. This must've been too uncanny for Khan, who ordered Xavier's immediate execution. Only Lilandra's unexpected intervention spared Xavier. Begrudgingly, Khan submitted to his empress's whim. As he slithered away, Gambit couldn't help but gloat.

"How the mighty have fallen."

Khan flashed a wicked grin, "Today the reign of the aerie ends!"

No one else heard, least of all Lilandra, who was embedded in a lover's quarrel with Xavier. They were untangling the mess of who had attacked who first. Listening to them argue, Gambit realized the X-Men and Shi'ar had been edging each other for years. This confrontation was long overdue, and if it had happened months ago, endless lives could have been saved. The two leaders seemed to realize the negative residue they were spilling in this sloppy airing of dirty laundry, and moved into more private sectors.

Gladiator, Lilandra's personal bodyguard, informed Khan that the Starjammers were approaching and had the imperial family's code for clearance.

'_Here comes some __**cavalry**__,'_ Rachel thought.

"What's this?" Gambit asked Khan pre-emptively.

Khan wanted to blast the spaceship from the sky, but couldn't endanger a member of the imperial family.

The Starjammers docked without any initial complications. No one attempted to disembark. Moments later, the Shi'ar detected a tiny wormhole opening inside the vessel. Lilandra's guard, Plutonia, offered to investigate. Instead, she swelled like an explosive and leapt thru the portal. Whichever X-Man had been holding the other end was likely dead.

'_Tess hacked the system and faked the codes,'_ Rachel told him. _'Without her, they would never have gotten this close.'_

But Khan had been suspicious from the start. How could he anticipate their every move while even the X-Men didn't know what they were doing?

'_Something's gone wrong… Xavier needs me,'_ Rachel thought.

The X-Men blew the door from its hinges – figuratively. Actually, they charged through the portal with enough force to blast away half the Shi'ar throne room.

Magneto led the attack. His flesh had turned to mercy and liquid lightning flashed from his eyes and through mortal wounds along his chest and ribs.

"The line of Lehnsherr dies today!" he roared, "But not unavenged!"

Cyclops and the others flooded the structure – Wolverine, X-23, Psylocke, Iceman, Angel and… Madelyne Pryor?! They landed in waves, crashing, blasting, punching, fighting. The Shi'ar had the home advantage, but the X-Men progressed with wave after merciless wave.

Gambit quietly told Rachel, "If you're lookin' for a distraction, dis is it."

She wasn't the only one waiting for a chance to slip away. Gambit noticed Khan unceremoniously fleeing and followed.

Anna would've been shoulder-to-shoulder with their friends: fighting and dying heroically. If she were still alive, she would've followed Cyclops, and Remy would've followed her. But she wasn't alive. So while her friends died without her, Remy went back to the shadows, playing the snake in the grass. He intended to discover who'd been manipulating the X-Men from the start. The endgame was their destruction, but Khan had the answers to preventing that. If 'Sinister' could get him to gloat, Gambit might yet save his friends, his children, and what remained of the world.

_New Orleans_

Honor opened her eyes, seeing clearly.

She and Hero went downstairs and found Nate washing blood off his shirt in the kitchen skin. Nude from the waist up, one of his metallic hands revealed an arm consumed with steel, which was slightly larger in size but equal in shape to the other. Flesh became steel at the shoulder joint. The border wasn't a clean line, but an incoming tide frozen in place. Computer circuit veins dug into his skin, and the effected flesh had been badly scarred.

"Sorry, guys," Nate tried to hide the blood. "Did I wake you?"

"No," said 'On, "I had a vision. You need to be there _more_ than I need you here."

_Shi'ar Throne Room_

Over the deafening battle, Gladiator broadcasted an image of himself holding Lilandra's decapitated head.

"**Super-guardians!** The Majestrix Shi'ar has been **murdered** – by her former consort – **Charles Xavier!** For this crime, he and his accused X-Men must **die!**"

Shi'ar warbirds poured into the throne room like bees on a bear nose. The indestructible Gladiator struck against the spine of the army, but the line held. Even the giant warrior Titan, who destroyed much of the throne room stomping and swatting at X-Men, was brought down by X-23 alone.

Scott realized he'd been used. Xavier would have never harmed Lilandra. He tirelessly petitioned against any confrontation with the Shi'ar. The Empress had been murdered, though – they'd all seen the evidence. But who? Gladiator was as unlikely a candidate as Xavier. As truthful as he was loyal, Gladiator would not have accused without the full strength of his convictions.

They'd all been played.

But the machine of war could not be turned this late…

_Rachel had gone in search of Xavier. No one stopped her from leaving the throne room, and the further she went, the darker the halls and rooms became. Finally, she crossed a threshold, and found herself standing before Xavier's proud school. The windows gleamed in the setting sun and water from the fountain burst forth clean and freely. She could even hear birds chirping. _

_The enormous campus was deserted. Rachel never even saw birds. In one of the classrooms, she found Xavier tied helplessly to a desk. He drooled and wept pathetically – his tongue paralyzed and his eyes blind. His captor watched with wicked glee. Ignoring his mumbled pleas, Rachel found herself facing Xavier's archenemy, Cassandra Nova._

"This is a wise decision on your part, Sinister," said Khan, unalarmed by his uninvited shadow. "We both stand to benefit."

"That's the plan…"

"Did you complete the inter-dimensional tesseract?"

"You lack the subtleties required by the art of conversation, so I'll speak in terms you can grasp. What about my payment?"

Khan's brow creased. "There are greedy men and greedy men, and then there's _you_. What about all the Shi'ar technology I've given you? We agreed _you_ were in _my_ debt, which is why I accepted all those orphaned primates. By the way, the Slaver's Guild is just as tight-fisted as ever, so I'm still losing out."

"Demand's increased. I trust you don't need a lesson in economics."

"Do you think you're the only one in the galaxy capable of opening a portal into another dimension? I'm moments away from total victory! Once the Shi'ar and X-Men have decimated each other, the puppet master will leave the trenches.

"The Brood and Warskulls won't _heel_ without a common enemy. I don't care who's behind it, they're no match for both armies, or they would never have enlisted their help. Perhaps I'll wait for the dust to settle and enjoy my newly annexed dimension."

'Sinister' crossed his arms. "I've yet to discover a universe superior to this one. Your plan appears sound… Wait for _others_ to defeat an enemy _you_ can't even identify. _You_ will need to escape before _I_."

_Shi'ar Throne Room_

Light exploded on the battlefield. Bright as a supernova, every combatant stood stunned, temporarily blinded. But as their sight returned, their hearing was flooded by a single voice.

"_Peace_! Please!" Nate cried.

His astral form appeared gigantic, but not tyrannical.

"Do you know _why_ you're fighting?!"

"Xavier brought his army!" Gladiator answered. "He _slaughtered_ our Empress!"

"Because _you_ destroyed our school!" said Cyclops.

"No, dad," Nate replied. "Someone's betrayed the Shi'ar, too. They sold information to Sinister, and Stryfe stole it from him. Warskulls helped Stryfe use the Shi'ar technology to destroy the school. Why? Because they knew you'd strike back. Every warbird in the galaxy is coming for you, so the Brood were free to attack the Shi'ar capital. Poor Lilandra didn't die alone. One million souls – _everyone_ in the capital's dead!"

Gladiator wasn't moved. "More lies! Xavier came under the banner of peace, too, and the deceit cost the Empress's life!"

"I'm sorry," said Nate, "but your Empress died long ago when her mind was possessed. Xavier offered a more tempting host."

"Who could defeat _Xavier_?" asked Cyclops.

"That would be me - _Immensity!_" Xavier answered, blasting away Gladiator and cutting down Wolverine.

X-23 dove claw-first at his bald head but a telepathic shield shredded her flesh from bone.

"Shi'ar! X-Men! Who considers themselves a _match_ for me?"

"I'm sorry, Charles, but I see no other way," Cyclops said quietly before firing a beam at Xavier's jugular. His mentor's head was cleanly severed. The cranium spun to the ground, stopped, and then re-attached to its body.

"Nice try, _Junior_, but I'm no longer bound by corporeal physics!"

_Rachel grabbed Cassandra Nova's skull and let her fingers sink into the old woman's bald head. She intended to scramble her mind, but the obvious target concealed a trap. Cassandra Nova's head opened like a jar and a flood of spiders with the villainess's naked head poured out. Rachel screamed and swung her arms, mostly disgusted, and found herself overwhelmed._

"Damn you!" roared Khan. "Name your price!"

"_Knowledge_. A man like you doesn't hedge his bet. Who else promised to commission your portal?"

"No one could come close without the Shi'ar technology."

"Your implied loyalty doesn't persuade me. How many dimensions? How many survive in your wake?"

"So… not the geneticist after all, but the _thief_ come to steal my secrets."

"Nah. Keep your secrets. I want your life."

Gambit charged a handful of cards and launched them at Khan, who dove out of harm's way.

"You fooled my examiners, thief – I'm impressed!"

"Just charmed 'm."

Khan retaliated with a blast from his hands, which Gambit summersaulted to avoid. He came back up to Khan's fist and barely escaped collision. Dropping quickly, Gambit sprang up feet-first and caught Khan's chest, hurling him across the room.

"How does it _feel_, Gambit, to discover your father is a _monster_?"

Khan smacked into the wall and opened fire once more, this time hitting his target. The blast knocked Gambit off his feet, spilling cards everywhere.

"What _matters_, Khan, is that my kids know their daddy _isn't_." Disoriented, Gambit reached weakly for a card. "Should'a left well enough alone, homme. It's a big dimension, room t' _share_."

"I don't share, X-Man! I conquer!"

Khan shot to kill, dead cards thumping on his chest. One lodged there by happenstance, but Khan was too pleased to notice.

"I have laid claim to _scores_ of dimensions. In due course, I will have them _all_! Why should yours be any different?!"

"Always beware, Khan, the fella who saves his best for last."

With a snap of his fingers, every card lit with explosive energy.

Khan noticed the ace of hearts stuck to his chest as it charged his armor. The suit designed to protect him had been turned into a time bomb and burned the skin beneath.

"This is for my _Anna_."

"No! Not like this!" Khan tried to rip off the unstable armor as it exploded. "It can't end like this!"

_Beneath the swarm, the eye of the Phoenix burned. The spark within Rachel cried to her mother for help, and the ghost of Jean Grey swooped into the Shi'ar throne room, unaware of the trap._

"Jean! I've never been so glad to see anyone!" said Cyclops.

He would've known this woman anywhere, but her body was not her own. Flames licked her scalp and her skin was brightly translucent. She sensed his confusion and turned with sorrowful eyes to explain.

"This body is still in a transitional phase. Until I am completely _whole_, I am as _vulnerable_ as you. It was unwise to come here. But nothing is more important than our children. We must protect them, whatever the cost."

"Of course…" he said.

The fiery image of the Phoenix expanded to massive proportions, and Jean flew towards Xavier's possessed form. Everyone else stood in wonder, helpless spectators in this battle of titans.

Madelyne found her way to Scott and said, "I heard that."

"What?"

"You swore to protect the children. What about _our_ child? The one you abandoned for _her_? You would abandon them _all_ – _for her_. You haven't changed, but _she_ has."

"Maddie, you may not believe me, but I think about you every day. I think about the life we _should_ have had together. There's nothing I can do to make things right for you – or Nate."

"It's _never_ too late."

Jean had impressively displayed her telekinesis by tying Xavier in ropes of fire and throwing him into the belly of the Phoenix, but Cassandra Nova grabbed the cosmic entity by the throat and tore off its head. Tearing Phoenix from Jean was similar to tearing vein from heart. Jean's weakened spiritual form erupted in flames, leaving a corpse in her place.

"This **can't** be happening!" Scott erupted.

"Now," said Gladiator, "I believe we have the same enemy!"

_By the time Nate found his sister, she'd become completely infested. The only thing that had spared her from thorough possession was Cassandra Nova's preoccupation with the greater threat of the Phoenix. He pulled Rachel from the swarm, helped her beat off the hybrid spiders, and was rewarded with a breath-stealing embrace._

"_Thank you, baby brother, thank you!"_

_The spiders massed together and re-formed Cassandra Nova. She beat the palm of her hand with a ruler, looking agitated._

"_You were __**told**__ to __**stay put**__!" She told Nate. "You should have __**listened**__!"_

_Rachel reared back. "How-!"_

"_The X-Men have relied on telepaths to communicate their schemes for years. It's not only __**predictable**__, it's __**fruitless**__. No bond is too secure for the most powerful telepath in existence."_

_With an eyebrow twitch, letters on the chalkboard rose and surrounded the pair. Nate ripped them away, threw them down, and Rachel incinerated them with her thoughts. A giant 'X' finally pinned down his arms, and isolated, Rachel couldn't withstand the onslaught for long. They sunk into the wall, holding hands in sweet death. The irony wasn't lost on Cassandra Nova – she and her brother had never joined hands in life, and their continued existence ensured the survival of their war._

_She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks._

"_Well done," Rachel said._

_Behind the villain, she and Nate watched stoically. The illusion successfully trapped her wicked, supposedly omnipotent mind._

"_If I could just signal the others-" Rachel started, but Nate shook his head._

"_She's monitoring their minds. If we call for the X-Men, she'll know. 'On said they'd come through. We just have to wait."_

"_And you never __**once**__ thought this might be a trap?"_

"_Because of what happened on the moon six years ago? She's had plenty of chances to kill me since then."_

"_None that would make her look so innocent."_

"_She was right, wasn't she? We stopped the farce war, uncovered the true murderers, and saved your butt. Trust her a little longer."_

Psylocke flanked Xavier and thrust her psychic knife through the back of his skull. Stunned, he staggered, grasping blindly and spinning in an attempt to lose the assailant.

Madelyne realized Cassandra Nova was temporarily paralyzed, but Psylocke required more power to finish the job. Unfortunately, all the most powerful telepaths were detained or – her eyes found Jean's corpse – eradicated. Madelyne couldn't cast a shadow on Jean's power, but they shared the same blood. Hell, they'd basically shared the same life: both had loved the same man, and both had found him wanting. Since they shared a body and heart, why couldn't they also share a soul?

All her faults – jealousy, fear, selfishness – were suddenly overwhelmed by trust, comfort, and love. As Madelyne accepted Jean's ghost and gave the Phoenix a proper host, she was finally home.

The full force of the Phoenix poured through Psylocke's weapon, devouring Cassandra Nova from the inside out. On the astral plane, Immensity tried to move to a different host, but Nate and Rachel held her firmly in place. If it had cost their lives, they would have paid the price to hold her still. Even Psylocke feared that the power would be more than she could withstand. But Phoenix was no longer half-formed. Madelyne made her complete. With precision and strength, she broke the villain's core and incinerated the shreds. Xavier's body reverted to its astral form and then withered away like a slug in a salt pot.

…:::…

To Be Concluded…


	11. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the X-Men.

**Epilogue  
**"I love her and that's the beginning and end of everything."  
~F. Scott Fitzgerald

Nate pulled on his formal blazer for the third time in a week. When his mother had insisted on buying it ("because you'll need it one day!"), she had no idea how much use it would receive. He'd dusted it off before leaving Alaska for René's wedding. Since then, it hadn't cooled off.

The wedding seemed like a lifetime ago. After the attack on the school, there had been a massive memorial ceremony and a string of funerals. Nate attended most, but his father had attended all of them. The tragedy had aged his father – _a lot_ – and removed a healthy portion of his bravado. Emma complained that he never took a risk anymore, but the shift in priorities might've been beneficial. Nate suspected his father wouldn't be riddled with self-doubt forever. Eventually, the pendulum would swing back.

A letter from Alaska Pacific University lay on his bed. It stated that due to lack of attendance, he had been expelled. He intended to contact the school and inform them of his own personal crisis, but it somehow seemed so insignificant now. Besides, he had no plans to go home soon.

Home.

It wasn't home anymore without his mother. What would he do with her house? Her piloting business? He couldn't file a death certificate because she wasn't technically dead, but she wasn't coming back, either. He didn't know what to do or how to feel.

At least Rachel could sympathize. Every time her mother had an appearance and inevitable disappearance, Rachel and Kitty would drink themselves into a stupor. They included Nate this time, but it only made him feel worse and gave him no sense of closure. Apparently, this was a wound that would not heal.

After his mother's funeral-that-wasn't-really-a-funeral, Ethan's body had been uncovered. No one claimed it, of course. Everyone knew he'd been the leader in the massacre.

Honor had him cremated and then stole the ashes. The old team assembled once more: Nate, Uri, Honor, René, and Tess. At midnight on the LeBeau property in Poughkeepsie, Honor buried his ashes in a shallow grave and said a few words.

"I'm glad he's dead. I don't care how evil it is."

"Wish he were alive," said René, "So I could kill 'm _myself_ in de way he _deserved_."

"He suffered enough, guys," Uri quietly said. "Cancer… Sinister… Then the Juggernaut… No one deserved that."

Nate was desperate to make sense of the situation and applied his philosophy. "He used to be our friend. That only changed when things soured, and he couldn't cope. I think something inside him _broke_. He lost his mind."

"He was not _insane_," Tess argued. "He was _consumed_ with himself. When he realized he was dying, he decided to make his death as devastating as possible for everyone who knew him. Hell is a state of mind he could only escape by casting on us."

Nate had to learn to accept the ambiguity of Ethan's life and death.

Today's funeral, thank goodness, was more certain.

Once again, the old team came together for the joint funeral and Gambit and Rogue. Scott had been generous with every funeral so far, and this one was no exception. Since Gambit's body had never been recovered from the wreckage, Rogue's ashes would be released in space, where his remains no doubt rested. Scott arranged for the Blackbird to transport the service, which was relatively small. Truthfully, few of their friends escaped that day. Storm had also perished attempting to retrieve the children. Perhaps the saddest death of all was Sarah, alias Marrow. Her body was never found either, but she'd last been seen with Gambit. She had no family to contact. No one even gathered in the secrecy of night to lament her tragic life.

But Nate accompanied the LeBeaus, as did the rest of his family. Mystique, the legal guardian of the twins, gave a touching tribute. She even wept.

Nate wondered how the world hadn't drowned in all their tears.

After some emotional negotiations, the Raven/LeBeau/Bourdeaux/Patel family had decided that Mystique would adopt Ollie and Becca. She agreed to raise them in their Poughkeepsie childhood home. The house was close to the X-Men HQ, and since Pransu and Hero had decided to return to New York, the LeBeaus would be surrounded by family. Honor promised to visit during the summers and fly the kids down to New Orleans for Easter and Christmas, but apparently felt that wasn't enough. She'd ordered her brother and his wife to assist Mystique with the move, which felt bizarrely like an exile. But once all the details were decided, no one complained.

Since Scott had been so long detained in New York, Emma found a house for rent and asked Nate if he wanted his things shipped down from Alaska. He hadn't decided. He'd spent more of his teenage years with the LeBeaus than his actual family, so the idea of leaving Honor behind in New Orleans felt… _treacherous_.

Following Rogue and Gambit's funeral, everyone gathered at the Poughkeepsie home for supper. Even in a crowd, it wasn't difficult to get Honor alone.

Nate found her Henri's little memorial behind the lake.

He cleared his throat. "Hey… can I bother you?"

"'Course."

She motioned at the grass beside her, and he took the offered seat.

"Worried about me?" she asked.

"I don't like the idea of you in New Orleans by yourself."

"I've got the Guild. That's hardly alone. And I've got Vaughn."

"Seriously? After what he did to Marie and René?"

"Lovers come and go, but family's forever. He should've known that. When he finally gets his, I need them as far from home as possible."

Nate reared back. "You're joking."

She smiled and laughter exploded from her mouth.

He laughed, too. It felt wonderful, like walking into the sun after thirty days of night. They laughed until they cried.

Wiping her face, she pointed at Henri's stone angel and said, "Mystique won't say so, but she really wants a monument for Rogue, too. I'm thinking something a little less sad. Maybe young Rogue in her skin-tight uniform, just about to leap into flight."

"Beautiful."

"With her big hair and big earrings. Maybe with my dad about to pinch her rear."

"And boysenberry pie dripping off his face."

They laughed again. The grass was soft beneath them, the sun was warm on their skin, and the wind was sweet in their hair. The world was suddenly as beautiful as it had just been vile.

"When you decide to go," said Nate, "I wanna come with you. I don't want you going alone."

"To New Orleans?"

"No… When you decide to track those kids. I don't care how long it takes. I mean it. If it takes forever, I'm with you."

"What are you talking about? The kids are in the house."

"Not _those_ kids. _The Savage Land_…"

"Nate!" She laughed and shook her head, "We've been through a lot lately. I think your mind's been addled. What are you talking about?"

"Your father's _children_ from _the Savage Land_."

"Now I _know_ you're confused! All of my father's children are right here. And I would know. _I'm psychic_."

He looked into her eyes, searching for any hint of deception or jest. She was not only honest; she was even _boastful_ of her conviction. He back peddled with a smile.

"Maybe… There was a lot going on."

She nodded sympathetically.

"Hey," he said causally, "Tess still here?"

Not only was Tess still around, she was also waiting for Nate when he found her. He didn't waste a breath on preamble.

"_Again?!_ What's your excuse _this_ time?"

"You know it was the right decision."

"Why? _Why_ is it alright to violate her mind? Did Xavier teach you _nothing_?"

Heat rose to Tess's face. She was rarely ashamed. "If Xavier taught me _anything_, it's that the _ends_ justify the _means_. His hypocrisy is essential to your philosophy. He made no attempt to stop the corruption of the Hellfire Club, as long as he _knew_ about it! And you made no attempt to stop me from altering her mind – _ever_."

"Because you're my friend! I don't want to cut off your hands to stop you from stealing!"

"In my defense, I didn't alter her mind out of malice. I transferred her knowledge to Gambit. Her memory corruption was an unintentional side effect, and I had no way of knowing he would not live much longer. But I don't regret my actions."

"Those kids are out there somewhere, lost forever, with no home or hope. You're not the _least_ sorry?"

"_These_ children-" she motioned to the house, "-still have a _sister_. Be honest, you know that once those children left this planet, they had virtually no chance of returning. What good would it do for Honor to waste years tracking them? It would save them only a little suffering while inflicting great misery on herself and her family. I may not be heroic, but I am correct. _You_ still have a friend. _Honor_ still has a life. Variables weighed, the choice was simple."

"Honor has to be allowed to make these decisions on her own. It's _wrong_ to use your powers this way."

"Did _Xavier_ teach you that? Who do you think taught me to mind wipe?"

Exasperated, Nate telepathically gripped her mind and squeezed mercilessly. She strengthened her defenses like a prey tenses in a python's embrace, but eventually those defenses faltered. Oxygen stopped getting to her brain. Blood quickly accumulated and throbbed painfully against the restriction.

"You've convinced me, Tess. Might makes right. I _know_ you're _lying_ to me and _using_ Honor, and if you won't _admit_ it, I'll _make_ you and _no one_ can stop me."

"Okay!" She yelped, "_Fine!_ I did it for the _Guild! _As long as she's there, I can access all of their intel! They _must_ be monitored, Nathan! You have no idea how unstable the situation is!"

He released the pressure.

"You think that was _bad_? Keep away from her," he warned, "Or I'll show you _pain_."

Tess waited until the following morning to leave, and spent all night quietly making love with Honor. Nate could hear them through Tess's thin telepathic barrier, and re-enforced it with his own so the kids wouldn't hear. He didn't get a moment's rest. All night long, he devised ways of torturing Tess, increasing her suffering with each possible scenario. He could crush her with his telekinesis and she'd be powerless to stop him. He nearly acted on his baser impulses, but Honor had suffered enough. She wouldn't recognize his attacks against Tess as acts of love. She'd be hurt, and he wouldn't do that to her.

So he raged silently all night.

When Tess said her good-byes the next morning, everyone gathered outside except Nate, who glared at her from the window.

She was lucky to escape with her life.

"She's gone now," said Rachel. "Can you stop?"

"You know?" he asked her.

"I know you well enough to know when someone's pissed you off. I know you don't take offense easily. And I know if you're this angry, _I'd_ probably kill her, so I won't ask questions. Here, take Lauren. Mallory needs changed."

"Where's Emma?"

"Our mothers just died, Nate. That's foreplay for her. She and Scott are practicing to conceive."

Nate looked down at the infant in his arms. To tell the newborn twins apart, Lauren was dressed in pink; and Mallory in purple. But Nate was beginning to pick up on tiny differences. Mallory's brow was darker. Lauren's chin was weaker. They were both his sisters, and yet, they were no different than anyone else's baby. They weren't special. Why were they safe at home with an intact family to love them, when Honor's little brothers and sisters were being sold as slaves? The survivors represented a tattered and broken family. His heart broke under the guilt of having what he couldn't share.

"I remember when you were born," Rachel told him, changing Mallory's diaper. "I was so _jealous_. Sixteen years old. I'd jumped back in time – or thought I had – to save my parents from certain death. Turns out, mom was already dead and dad had already moved on. Then you came along."

"Did you hate me?"

"I _wanted_ to," she admitted. "But then I held you… From that first moment I took you in my arms, I felt bonded to you. Not just telepathically, either, I mean, deep down in my soul. You were a _part_ of me. I've never felt that way about anyone."

He kissed Lauren. "That's how I feel about these guys."

"I know. Which is why I'm gonna help you make the right decision."

"About what?"

"New York has some great pre-med schools. I've already talked to Scott and he's agreed to cover your tuition. After everything… And what happened with the LeBeaus… He wants us nearby. He even trapped me into staying here."

Nate was stunned silent. For as long as he'd known Rachel, she never stayed in one place for long. She was always available when he needed her, but they hadn't spent much time together unless there was a crisis.

"Yeah," Rachel said when she saw his thoughts. "But Logan's re-building the school. He's going to call it the Jean Grey School, and he wants me to teach."

"_Wolverine?"_

She laughed. "Logan, yeah. Wild, right?"

"But my mom's stuff-"

"Settled. She had terminal cancer, so she signed the mortgage over to you and sold her business to Uncle Alex. The money should go a long way towards your school. She came to tell you and Scott, but then everything happened and…"

He felt like he'd been punched in the gut, and buried his head in Lauren's hair so she couldn't see him cry.

Alexander wandered into the room, asking for Ollie, and Rachel sent him out again. The distraction gave Nate time to compose himself. He carried his little sister to her basinet and set her beside her twin.

"I can't leave Honor alone," he told Rachel.

She huffed, and he could feel her jealousy rising. She smothered the ugly emotion and answered serenely.

"When Gambit got upset, your best bet was to give him space. She's a lot like him. Don't try to box her into staying here, and don't drag her down. Just be there for her. Let her know you care. She's a big girl, and she knows what she needs. If she needs _space_, then give it to her."

"It's not fair, Ray. They were a happy family. They never hurt anyone."

"We can be a happy family, too. Let's _try_, at least."

This was a new phase for Nate. His "family" had begun with him and his mom. Now "family" meant a troupe of half-siblings, a stepmother he barely knew, and a father he barely liked. The transition would be uncomfortable for all of them, and the awkward development could fail miserably. His heart ached for the familiarity of the past. But life went on. As long as he was alive, he would have to suffer growing pains. It beat the alternative.

..

The End..

..

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who finished this story! What a long, strange trip it's been, but I am so proud of this lil' fic. If you loved or hated it, please leave a review. Hopefully you were left wanting more! 'Raven Legacy: Subtitle Yet To Be Determined' will check in with Marvel's most dysfunctional families and attempt to wrap up the loose story lines here. Suggestions? Requests? It's not too late to write in! Thank you all so very much for your time reading and reviewing. I hope it was time well spent.


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